THE  LIBRARY 

OF 

THE  UNIVERSITY 
OF  CALIFORNIA 

LOS  ANGELES 


WEALTH  AND  WORTH; 


WHICH  MAKES  THE  MAN? 


The  honest  man,  tho'  e'er  sae  poor 
Is  king  of  men  for  a'  that.— BURNS.' 


NEW-YORK: 

HARPER    &    BROTHERS,  82    CLIFF-ST. 
1842. 


Entered,  according  to  Act  of  Congress,  in  the  year  1841,  by 

HAKPER  &  BROTHERS, 
In  the  Clerk's  Office  of  the  Southern  District  of  New-York. 


ADVERTISEMENT. 


THIS  is  the  first  of  a  contemplated  series  of 
"  American  Family  Tales."  The  greater  part 
of  our  current  literature,  both  for  young  and  old, 
is  of  English  origin,  often  unsuited  in  its  tone  to 
a  full  sympathy  with  our  republican  institutions, 
and  generating  associations  with  foreign  scenes 
and  modes  of  life,  instead  of  fostering  sentiments 
of  attachment  to  our  own  native  soil  and  people. 

To  infuse  an  earnest,  independent,  American 
spirit,  uncontaminated  by  intolerance  toward 
other  governments  and  nations — to  encourage  a 
taste  for  gratifications  of  the  intellect  in  prefer 
ence  to  those  of  the  senses,  without  forgetting 
the  superior  importance  of  the  inculcation  of 
those  principles  of  action,  which  a  reverential 
faith  in  the  divine  origin  of  the  Christian  code  of 
morals  enforces — such  will  be  the  paramount  ob 
jects  regarded  in  the  preparation  of  these  tales. 


WEALTH   AND  WORTH; 

OR, 

WHICH    MAKES    THE    MAN? 


CHAPTER  I. 

They  say  that  first  and  only  love 

Outlives  all  after  dreams  ; 
But  the  memory  of  a  first  great  grief 

To  me  more  lasting  seems. 

"  You  had  better  defer  your  sail,  Harry." 
"  Why  so,  sir  ?     The  water  is  smooth,  and  the 
weather  calm." 

"  It  is  calm  here  where  we  stand,  I  acknowledge, 
Harry  ;  but  do  you  not  see  the  movement  in  those 
clouds  that  frown  over  the  Palisades  1  There  is 
every  sign  of  a  squall." 

"  Quite  a  mistake,  my  dear  father.  Those  clouds 
have  been  there  these  three  weeks  ;  and  though 
they  look  big  and  black  at  times,  they  seem  to  be 
very  well  disposed,  peaceable  clouds  indeed.  I 
am  not  afraid  of  them." 

"  Hark !    Did  I  not  hear  thunder  ?" 
"  You  heard  the  rumbling  of  a  carriage  along 
the  south  road.     There !  the  clouds  are  breaking 
away,  and  drifting  down  to  the  horizon.    We  shall 
not  have  rain." 


8  WEALTH    AND    WORTH  J    OR, 

"  Look  at  the  barometer.  See  !  it  declares  the 
weather  cloudy  and  variable." 

"  The  barometer,  sir,  is  a  humbug.  It  is  a  catch 
penny  affair  altogether — an  old  woman's  toy." 

"  Upon  my  word,  Mr.  Harry,  you  are  a  very 
knowing  young  man.  I  am  foolish  enough,  how 
ever,  to  take  the  barometer's  prediction  with  re 
gard  to  the  weather  in  preference  to  yours.  Upon 
other  subjects  I  will  not  doubt  the  superiority  of 
your  judgment.  But  you  must  not  venture  upon 
the  river  to-day.  So  make  up  your  mind  to  be  con 
tented  on  shore.  I  am  going  to  the  city.  Would 
you  like  to  accompany  me  ?" 

"  No,  sir." 

"  Very  well.  Take  care  of  yourself.  I  shall  be 
back  before  twilight." 

And  so  saying,  Mr.  Maverick  stepped  into  his 
neat  little  wagon,  took  the  reins  from  his  attend 
ant,  and  laying  the  lash  gently  upon  his  span  of 
beautiful  horses,  was  borne  away  at  a  brisk  speed 
toward  the  great  city. 

As  for  Harry,  he  stood  a  moment,  biting  his  lips 
with  evident  vexation,  and  then  dashed  his  cap 
upon  the  ground.  What  a  disappointment,  what 
an  affliction,  what  a  barbarous  and  deplorable  thing 
it  was,  that  he  could  not  take  the  sail  he  had  an 
ticipated  ! 

To  be  sure,  there  were  other  resources  of  amuse 
ment  within  his  reach.  He  might  order  out  his 
pony,  and  take  a  ride.  He  might  fish  in  the  trout- 
pond,  or  pluck  fruit  in  the  garden.  There  was  a 
library  filled  with  the  most  costly  and  attractive 
books,  that  the  European  and  American  press  had 
sent  forth  during  the  last  fifty  years  ;  with  port 
folios  of  engravings,  casts  from  the  antique,  cam- 


WHICH    MAKES    THE    MAN  ?  9 

eoes,  medals,  and  coins.  Was  he  of  a  mechanical 
turn  ?  There  was  a  work-shop  with  a  turning- 
machine,  and  all  the  tools  which  an  amateur  cab 
inet-maker  could  desire.  The  green-house  was 
well  worth  studying  if  he  had  any  botanical  taste  ; 
and  if  he  had  a  love  for  natural  scenery,  there  was 
the  observatory,  from  which  a  noble  view  of  the 
Hudson,  its  Palisades  and  Highlands,  and  the 
steamboats  and  small  vessels,  which  give  ani 
mation  to  its  surface,  could  be  descried. 

Few  spots  could  be  compared  to  Eagleswood 
in  natural  charms,  and  few  could  be  more  elegant 
ly  embellished  by  art.  The  mansion  stood  upon 
the  slope  of  a  broad  and  picturesque  hill,  and  was 
at  once  elegant  and  commodious.  Proudly  did  it 
lift  its  white  front  above  the  tufted  elms,  that  seem 
ed  heaping  clouds  of  verdure  around  it ;  and  proud 
ly  did  it  look  forth  upon  the  lovely  landscape,  that 
spread  its  various  beauties  on  every  side.  The 
voyagers  on  the  Hudson  would  turn  to  it,  and  ask 
who  was  the  owner  of  that  fair  domain.  It  was 
the  place  of  Mr.  Maverick.  And  who  was  Mr. 
Maverick  ? 

Mr.  Maverick  was  a  Virginian  by  birth.  He 
had  removed  to  New  York  in  early  life  ;  and,  as 
a  tobacco  merchant,  had  accumulated  a  large  pro 
perty.  Fortune  smiled  upon  all  his  enterprises. 
He  married  a  lady  of  fashion,  purchased  a  house 
in  town,  and  the  splendid  estate  of  Eagleswood 
on  the  Hudson,  and  maintained  an  establishment, 
which,  though  expensive,  did  not  oblige  him  to  over 
step  his  income.  The  offspring  of  his  marriage 
were  two  children ;  one,  Henry,  the  hopeful  lad 
whom  I  have  introduced  to  the  charitable  considera 
tion  of  my  readers ;  the  other,  Emmeline,  who  was 


10  WEALTH    AND    WORTH  ;    OR, 

now  a  blooming  girl,  some  three  years  younger 
than  her  brother. 

Mrs.  Maverick  was  an  affectionate  mother,  and 
a  lady  of  rare  sweetness  of  manners  ;  but  having 
been  in  her  youth  a  successful  belle,  she  had  con 
tracted  some  faults,  which  impaired  her  usefulness 
in  the  domestic  sphere.  She  was  too  apt  to  attach 
value  to  mere  appearances,  and  to  be  solicitous 
rather  for  the  applause  of  the  world  than  for  the  no 
bler  and  more  enduring  approbation  of  the  con 
science — a  grievous  mistake  ! 

But  we  must  not  leave  our  friend  Harry  any 
longer,  standing  in  no  amiable  mood,  with  his  cap 
flung  on  the  grass.  Miserable  and  oppressed  as 
he  thinks  himself  to  be,  I  suspect  there  are  thou 
sands  of  boys  who  would  gladly  change  situations 
with  him.  Has  he  not  everything  around  him  to 
inspire  content — an  elegant  home,  affectionate 
parents,  a  lovely  little  sister,  with  horses,  dogs,  and 
servants  ?  What  would  the  boy  have  more  ?  Ah  ! 
he  has  been  forbidden  to  take  a  sail. 

"  What  shall  I  do  ?"  murmured  Harry  to  himself, 
taking  up  his  cap.  "  Here  I  promised  Charley 
Brudenel  that  I  would  take  him  out  in  my  new 
boat  this  afternoon  ;  and  he  will  think  me  a  sneak 
if  I  disappoint  him.  The  weather  is  fine  enough. 
I  can  see  no  prospect  of  a  shower.  The  sky  is 
quite  clear  ;  and  the  river  is  covered  all  over  with 
sunshine.  Where  is  the  danger  ?  I  think  I  will 
step  over  to  Charley's,  and  talk  with  him  about  it." 

As  Harry  passed  along  the  piazza,  his  eye  fell 
upon  the  barometer.  The  perverse  instrument  in 
flexibly  adhered  to  its  old  story.  "  cloudy  and  va 
riable."  Harry  seized  a  stick,  and  seemed  dis 
posed  to  break  the  impertinent,  tell-tale  glass  into 


WHICH    MAKES    THE    MAN?  11 

atoms  ;  but,  recollecting  that  he  would  not  be  likely 
to  change  the  intentions  of  the  elements  by  so  do 
ing,  he  prudently  refrained. 

It  was  not  far  to  Charley  Brudenel's.  Harry 
found  him  at  work  in  the  flower-garden,  cutting 
flowers  for  his  sister,  who  was  arranging  them  in 
vases.  On  seeing  his  companion,  Charley  threw 
down  his  knife,  and  making  a  speaking-trumpet  of 
his  two  fists,  exclaimed  :  "  Skipper,  ahoy  !  what 
cheer  ?" 

"  All  on  board  !"  replied  Harry,  wholly  forget 
ful  of  his  father's  command. 

"  Ay,  ay,  sir,"  answered  Charley,  who  was  im 
moderately  fond  of  "  playing  sailor  ;"  and,  as  he 
had  seen  sailors  do,  he  hitched  up  his  trousers, 
fixed  his  hat  upon  the  side  of  his  head,  and  ran  to 
meet  the  "  skipper,"  as  he  called  him. 

"  Where  are  you  going,  Charles  ?"  cried  Mary 
Brudenel ;  but  he  merely  waved  his  hat  in  reply, 
and  was  soon  out  of  sight  with  his  companion. 
They  proceeded  down  a  lane,  shaded  with  forest- 
trees,  and  fragrant  with  sweet  brier,  and  were  soon 
at  the  river's  side  near  the  boat-house. 

Charles  Brudenel  was  the  son  of  the  clergyman 
of  the  village,  in  which  Eagleswood  was  situ 
ated.  A  fair-haired,  blue-eyed  boy  was  Charles  ; 
slight  in  his  figure,  but  symmetrical  and  active. 
Being  somewhat  studious  in  his  tastes,  he  had  to 
be  checked  rather  than  stimulated  in  his  applica 
tion  to  books  ;  and  his  parents,  fearing  that  his  con 
stitution  was  feeble,  had  encouraged  him  in  all  out- 
of-door  sports  and  exercises.  In  these,  Harry 
Maverick  was  his  leader,  and  Charles  proved  no 
backward  pupil.  His  adventurous  spirit,  his  lively 
imagination,  his  sunny  and  affectionate  temper 


12  WEALTH    AND   WORTH  ;   OR, 

made  him  a  great  favorite  at  Eagleswood.  In 
both  his  sports  and  his  studies,  Harry  considered 
him  an  ally,  without  whom  he  could  not  be  at  ease. 
The  consequence  was,  that  Charles  passed  almost 
as  much  of  his  time  with  the  Mavericks,  as  with 
his  own  family.  And  when,  as  frequently  happen 
ed,  his  sister  and  Emmeline,  Henry  and  himself, 
rambled  forth  to  see  the  sun  set  from  the  surround 
ing  hills — 

"  No  dolphin  ever  was  so  gay, 
Upon  the  tropic  sea." 

The  boys  pushed  off  in  the  gay  little  boat,  which 
had  recently  come  into  Harry's  possession.  At 
first  they  contented  themselves  with  rowing  about 
near  the  shore,  where  the  smooth  surface  of  the 
water  was  green  from  the  overhanging  trees.  But 
they  soon  grew  more  adventurous.  The  river 
flashed  merrily  in  its  middle  course  ;  and  there  was 
a  brisk  breeze  with  a  fair  sky. 

"  Let  us  up  with  her  mast,  and  out  with  her  can 
vass  !"  cried  Charles.  "  Come  !  a  wet  sheet  and 
a  flowing  sea  !  Huzza  !" 

"  Agreed !"  said  Harry  ;  and  in  a  few  moments 
the  boat  was  scudding  through  the  spray,  like  a 
frightened  sea-bird. 

"The  Arrow  for  ever!"  shouted  Charles: 
"  what  a  dashing  little  craft  she  is !  How  fast 
she  leaves  the  water  behind  her !  See !  We 
have  almost  crossed  the  river.  It  is  time  to  tack 
ship,  skipper !" 

"  Ready  about !"  replied  Harry  ;  and  the  Arrow 
was  soon  back  again  near  the  point  from  which 
she  had  started. 

"  There  is  old  Hotspur  on  the  shore.   We  must 


WHICH   MAKES    THE    MAN?  13 

have  him  with  us,"  said  Harry,  pointing  to  a  fine 
Newfoundland  dog,  which  had  been  presented  to 
him  by  a  sea  captain  in  his  father's  service. 
"  Here,  Hotspur  !  Come  here,  old  fellow." 

Hotspur  barked,  and  then  ran  away  a  short  dis 
tance,  as  if  he  wholly  disapproved  of  the  enter 
prise. 

"  We  can  do  without  you,  Mr.  Hotspur,"  said 
Charles  ;  and  the  boys  prepared  to  cross  the  river 
once  more. 

The  wind,  during  this  trip,  had  increased  a  lit 
tle  ;  but  the  Arrow  carried  them  gallantly  through 
the  foam.  Again  they  turned  her  head  homeward. 
But  they  now  found  that  the  breeze  blew  from  a 
different  quarter,  and  that  it  was  necessary  to  beat 
across,  or  adopt  a  zigzag  course,  in  order  to  reach 
the  pier  at  Eagleswood.  The  sky  was  by  no 
means  so  clear  as  it  had  been.  It  wore  a  sullen, 
lurid  aspect  in  many  places.  In  fact,  the  weather 
was,  as  the  barometer  had  indicated,  "  cloudy  and 
variable." 

"  Now,  be  ready  to  shift  the  sail  at  a  moment's 
notice,  Charley,"  cried  Henry  Maverick,  who  was 
at  the  helm. 

"  Ay,  ay !"  replied  Charles,  humming  the  lines 
of  a  nautical  song — 

"  As  she  lay,  on  that  day, 
In  the  Bay  of  Biscay,  0  !" 

Three  times  did  the  boys  succeed  in  "  tacking 
ship,"  as  they  expressed  it.  They  were  rapidly 
approaching  the  shore.  They  could  plainly  see 
Hotspur,  who  was  running  about,  snuffing  the  air, 
and  regarding  the  adventurers  with  an  anxious  eye, 
as  the  wind  increased.  Charles  had  got  to  the 
2 


14  WEALTH    AND    WORTH  ;    OR, 

last  couplet  of  his  song,  and,  with  great  glee,  was 
singing — 

"  Now  we  sail  with  the  gale, 
From  the  Bay  of  Biscay,  O  !" 

"  About  for  the  last  time  !"  cried  Harry. 

His  companion  attempted  to  loosen  the  sail  so 
that  the  wind  might  take  it  on  the  other  tack,  but 
before  he  could  effect  his  purpose,  the  breeze  had 
veered  and  swollen  to  a  gale,  which  smote  the  boat 
so  forcibly  as  to  capsize  her  in  an  instant.  Harry 
was  thrown  by  the  shock  some  distance  into  the 
water  ;  but  before  Charles  could  disentangle  him 
self  from  the  ropes  about  the  mast,  the  Arrow  had 
rilled  and  sunk,  carrying  him  with  her  to  the 
bottom. 

Both  the  boys  were  good  swimmers  ;  but  skill 
no  longer  availed  poor  Charles.  Although  the 
wind  was  loud  and  the  waves  were  high,  Harry 
did  not  lose  his  self-possession  until  he  learned 
that  his  companion  had  not  risen  to  the  surface. 
Then  his  agony  amounted  almost  to  insanity.  He 
shrieked  to  the  hurrying  winds — made  desperate 
efforts  to  dive — shouted  madly  for  aid,  and  called 
upon  his  comrade's  name  in  heart-piercing  tones. 
At  length,  exhausted  by  his  efforts,  wild  with  grief, 
and  caring  little  for  his  own  life,  if  his  friend's 
could  not  be  restored,  he  too  sank  beneath  the 
turbulent  waters. 

The  accident  had  happened  hardly  an  eighth 
of  a  mile  from  the  shore  ;  and  on  witnessing  his 
master's  struggles  and  hearing  his  cries,  Hotspur 
had  jumped  eagerly  into  the  water,  and  was  now 
rapidly  paddling  his  way  toward  the  scene  of  the 
disaster.  He  seized  the  unconscious  boy  by  the 


WHICH    MAKES    THE    MAN  ?  15 

collar,  as  the  tide  was  hurrying  him  away,  and, 
with  much  effort,  swam  with  him  to  the  shore. 
Not  to  leave  his  good  offices  incomplete,  the  saga 
cious  brute  then  galloped  away  toward  the  house, 
until  he  met  a  black  groom,  named  Mingo,  whom 
Mr.  Maverick  had  brought  with  him  many  years 
before  from  Virginia. 

Mingo  was  moving  along  at  the  straggling  gait 
peculiar  to  the  Africans,  to  seek  shelter  from  the 
storm,  when  Hotspur  placed  himself  in  his  way, 
barking  violently,  and  leaping  up  to  his  shoulders. 
"  Down  !  down  !"  said  Mingo  ;  but  the  dog  only 
barked  the  more.  At  length,  finding  that  no  attention 
was  paid  to  him,  Hotspur,  as  if  aware  of  the  ne 
gro's  tender  point,  began  biting  his  shins,  while, 
by  his  barking,  he  said,  as  plainly  as  dog  could  say, 
"  Follow  me."  Mingo  could  no  longer  resist  such 
importunities.  He  followed  the  dog,  until  he  found 
Master  Harry  lying  senseless  upon  the  sand. 
Shocked  and  terrified,  he  raised  him  in  his  arms 
and  bore  him  home. 

On  returning  to  consciousness,  the  unfortunate 
boy  found  himself  in  his  own  little  chamber,  with  a 
physician  by  his  side,  and  his  mother  and  sister 
sitting  at  the  foot  of  the  bed,  gazing  anxiously  into 
his  face.  In  a  moment  he  vividly  recalled  the 
scene,  through  which  he  had  passed  ;  and,  uttering 
a  faint  moan,  he  sank  back  again,  senseless 

For  a  month,  but  slender  hopes  were  entertained 
of  his  recovery.  A  confirmed  fever,  accompanied 
by  delirium,  during  which  his  mind  was  prin 
cipally  occupied  with  recollections  of  his  lost  play 
mate,  had  prostrated  his  system ;  and  medical  aid 
seemed  to  be  of  little  avail.  At  length,  however, 
reason  once  more  dawned  upon  the  chaos  of  his 


16 


WEALTH    AND    WORTH  J    OR, 


thoughts.  The  first  indication  of  this  happy  change 
was  a  prolonged  fit  of  weeping,  followed  by  a 
sound  sleep. 

How  constantly,  during  all  this  time,  had  little 
Emmeline  watched  by  her  brother's  bedside  !  and 
how  fervently  had  she  prayed  every  night  for  his 
restoration !  And  now,  when  the  fever  had  at 
length  been  subdued,  with  what  a  tender  solicitude 
did  she  glide  on  tip-toe  about  the  room,  and  minis 
ter  to  every  want,  before  it  had  betrayed  itself  in 
words  !  Dear  Emmeline  ! 


WHICH    MAKES    THE    MAN  ?  17 


CHAPTER  II. 

"  This  anguish  will  be  wearied  down,  I  know  ; 
What  pang  is  permanent  with  man  ?     From  the  highest, 
As  from  the  vilest  thing  of  every  day, 
He  learns  to  wean  himself;  for  the  strong-  hours 
Conquer  him." — SCHILLER. 

"  COME,  Harry  !  The  weather  is  delightful ;  and 
the  doctor  says  I  may  lead  you  forth  into  the  gar 
den.  The  dahlias  are  all  in  bloom ;  and  such 
heaps  of  grapes,  green  and  purple,  you  never  saw  ! 
There,  take  my  arm.  Here  is  your  hat.  What 
a  funny,  Quaker-like  little  hat  it  is !  Why,  you 
can  walk  almost  as  fast  as  I  can." 

Harry  smiled  faintly,  as  Emmeline  rattled  on 
with  such  exclamations  as  these.  They  entered 
the  library.  The  sunshine  was  streaming  through 
the  catalpa-trees  before  the  southern  windows,  and 
dancing  with  the  mottled  shadows  upon  the  carpet. 
How  warm  and  pleasant  everything  appeared ! 
The  familiar  statues  and  busts  seemed  to  welcome 
the  restored  invalid  as  he  passed  along ;  and  the 
very  books,  with  their  gilt  bindings,  looked  instinfct-^ 
with  cheerfulness. 

Emmeline  threw  open  the  long  windows,  and 
led  him  forth  upon  the  piazza.  How  joyfully  were 
the  trees  waving  in  the  sunlight !  Old  Hotspur 
seemed  frantie  with  delight  at  seeing  his  young  mas 
ter  again.  He  would  fly  round  him,  barking  ve 
hemently — then  crouch  upon  the  ground,  and  beat 
his  tail  about  like  a  flail — and  then  rush  toward 


18  WEALTH    AND    WORTH  ;    OR, 

him  as  if  he  meant  to  devour  him,  but  stop  sud 
denly  and  look  intently  up  in  his  face.  Harry 
could  not  but  be  pleased.  Emmeline  led  him  to 
the  summer-house,  and  ran  and  gathered  for  him 
the  ripest  grapes,  singing — 

«  Let  us  flit  as  bright  as  spring ; 
Let  us  naught  but  pleasure  bring ; 
Let  us  teach  the  world  to  be 
Happy,  blithe,  and  gay  as  we." 

Hotspur  seemed  to  enter  into  the  spirit  of  her 
endeavor,  and  for  hours  they  amused  Harry,  till  he 
began  to  think  that  there  were  things  worth  living 
for,  though  Charles  had  passed  away.  Still,  in  the 
midst  of  his  new  feelings  of  contentment,  a  tear 
would  occasionally  steal  down  his  cheek ;  but  it 
was  no  longer  the  tear  of  pain  and  hopeless  grief. 
Smiles  would  precede  and  follow  it,  as  sunshine 
does  the  showers  of  April. 

Our  young  friend  now  began  rapidly  to  recover 
his  health.  It  was  the  soft  autumnal  season,  when 
our  aboriginal  forests  are  dyed  with  such  varied 
and  gorgeous  hues  ;  and  indescribably  grateful  to 
him  was  the  "  blest  power  of  sunshine,"  as  it 
flooded  the  woods  and  the  fields.  We  hardly  appre 
ciate  the  every-day  blessings  around  us  until  we 
have  been  deprived  of  their  enjoyment  for  a  time 
by  ill  health  ;  and  Harry,  as  he  rode  forth  with 
Emmeline  through  the  picturesque  lanes  of  Ea- 
gleswood,  or  by  the  shady  edge  of  the  river,  could 
not  but  thank  the  great  Creator  and  Giver  of  all 
good  things  for  his  exceeding  bounty.  That  heart 
must  be  corrupt  indeed,  in  which  the  sentiment  of 
praise  and  benediction  to  a  First  Great  Cause  is  not 
an  instinctive  offering  ;  but  it  should  not  be  a  sen- 


WHICH    MAKES    THE    MAN  ?  19 

timent  merely.  It  must  be  mingled  with  a  vital 
principle,  influencing  our  daily  conduct,  and  puri 
fying  all  our  motives.  Enthusiasm  for  what  is 
good,  without  good  works,  can  avail  nothing.  If 
we  are  sincere,  we  shall  do  that  which  we  pretend 
to  approve. 

Harry's  health  was  now  so  fully  established, 
that  his  father  advised  him  to  return  to  his  studies 
without  delay.  There  was  a  young  Englishman, 
named  Wainbridge,  in  the  neighborhood,  from  Ox 
ford,  an  excellent  scholar,  who  gave  instruction  to 
a  limited  number  of  pupils.  Henry  made  one 
of  them.  His  first  impressions  of  his  instructer 
were  not  favorable.  There  was  a  gravity  about 
Mr.  Wainbridge's  manner,  which  seemed  to  repel 
affection  ;  a  settled  melancholy,  which  presented 
few  allurements  to  the  young  and  light-hearted. 
But  Harry  soon  saw,  or  fancied  that  he  saw,  a 
native  sweetness  of  temper  beneath  this  austerity  ; 
and  then,  Mr.  Wainbridge,  though  in  feeble  health, 
was  so  patient  and  thorough  in  his  efforts  to  in 
struct  ;  so  earnest  was  he  in  attempting  to  make 
up  the  deficient  application  of  his  pupils  by  his 
clear  and  impressive  explanations,  that  Harry  be 
gan  by  respecting,  and  ended  by  loving  him.  He 
now  applied  himself  to  study,  less  because  his 
tasks  were  grateful,  than  because  he  was  anxious 
to  save  his  tutor  trouble. 

There  is  no  friendship  more  honorable  to  both 
parties  than  that  between  an  intelligent  pupil  and 
his  instructer.  Mr.  Wainbridge  could  not  fail  to 
perceive  and  to  reciprocate  the  attachment  mani 
fested  toward  him  by  Henry  Maverick ;  and  the 
Oxonian's  habits  of  utter  seclusion  and  solitude 
soon  began  to  be  broken  in  upon  by  occasional 


20  WEALTH    AND    WORTH  ;    OR, 

visits  to  Eagleswood.  A  little  incident  in  the  his 
tory  of  Mr.  Wainbridge,  which  had  become  known 
through  a  chambermaid  in  the  house  where  he  re 
sided,  who  had  impertinently  pried  into  his  pa 
pers,  served  to  increase  Harry's  sympathy,  and  to 
account,  in  a  degree,  for  the  habitually  dejected 
manner  of  the  tutor.  He  had  been  privately  mar 
ried  to  a  lady  of  high  rank  and  great  beauty  in 
England.  Her  father,  a  nobleman,  who  was  the 
personification  of  family  pride,  had  been  so  much 
exasperated  in  consequence,  as  to  refuse  to  see 
her,  after  what  he  chose  to  call  her  degradation. 
Wainbridge,  however,  had  a  little  annuity,  on 
which  he  was  enabled  to  live ;  and,  for  a  year  or 
two,  he  resided  at  a  neat  little  cottage  in  the 
neighborhood  of  London,  happy  in  his  domestic 
relations,  and  busily  engaged  upon  a  mathematical 
work,  from  which  he  hoped  to  derive  profit  and 
fame.  His  wife  was  ardently  attached  to  him ; 
and  the  only  cloud  upon  their  felicity  was  the 
sense  of  her  father's  implacable  resentment. 

One  morning  at  breakfast,  as  his  wife  was  pour 
ing  him  out  a  cup  of  tea,  and  he  was  reading  the 
Times  newspaper,  she  was  alarmed  at  seeing  him 
start  and  turn  pale,  as  if  at  the  perusal  of  afflict 
ing  news.  And  afflicting  it  was  to  both  of  them  ! 
The  banker,  in  whose  hands  his  whole  property 
was  vested,  had  failed  the  day  before,  and  sailed 
for  America.  The  blow  was  overwhelming.  Noth 
ing  was  saved  from  the  wreck.  Instant  beggary 
stared  poor  Wainbridge  in  the  face. 

He  attempted  at  once  to  find  a  purchaser  for  his 
mathematical  work ;  but  the  booksellers  laughed 
at  the  idea  of  publishing  what  so  few  persons 
would  understand  and  appreciate.  At  length,  af- 


WHICH    MAKES    THE    MAN?  21 

ter  indefatigable  researches,  he  found  that  the  most 
eligible  employment  which  presented  itself,  was 
that  of  usher  in  a  large  day-school,  where  the  re 
muneration  was  hardly  sufficient  for  the  support 
of  a  single  person. 

In  the  midst  of  his  troubles  and  perplexities, 
the  brother  of  his  wife,  Sir  William  Ormsby,  a 
young  nobleman  of  rather  profligate  habits,  and, 
like  his  father,  a  slave  to  family  pride,  called  upon, 
Mrs.  Wainbridge  in  her  husband  s  absence.  After 
upbraiding  her  for  her  "  disgraceful  match,"  and 
reminding  her  that  she  might  have  married  Lord 
Fitzdash,  who  had  the  "  most  bang-up  turnout  in 
the  three  kingdoms,"  he  informed  her  that  the 
object  of  his  visit  was  to  say,  that  her  too  indul 
gent  father,  hearing  of  the  "  absolute  pauperism  of 
that  fellow  Wainbridge,"  had  consented  to  offer 
her  an  asylum  in  his  own  house,  provided  she 
would  not  see  her  husband  so  long  as  she  remain 
ed  with  the  family. 

Mrs.  Wainbridge,  like  a  true  wife,  firmly  reject 
ed  this  proposal ;  and  the  brother,  making  an  inhu 
man  remark  about  "  leaving  her  to  die  in  a  gutter," 
quitted  the  house.  The  question  now  arose  in  her 
mind,  would  it  not  be  better  to  conceal  from  her 
husband  the  fact  of  the  visit  and  the  proposition  ? 
Alas  for  the  wife  who  takes  the  first  step  in  con 
cealment  and  deceit,  be  her  intentions  ever  so  gen 
erous  !  The  moment  that  there  is  the  slightest 
withdrawal  of  candor  and  confidence  is  a  moment 
of  peril  to  her  own  peace  and  that  of  her  compan 
ion.  Mrs.  Wainbridge  decided  rightly  in  this  case. 
She  determined  to  tell  her  husband  what  had  trans 
pired  ;  and  she  told  him.  He  quickly  decided  as 
to  his  own  course.  Tenderly  attached  as  he  was 


22  WEALTH    AND    WORTH  :    OR, 

to  his  wife,  he  resolved,  on  finding  that  they  were 
likely  to  be  subjected  to  extreme  privations,  to  in 
duce  her  to  accept  the  proffered  aid  of  those,  who 
were  bound  by  every  sacred  tie  to  succor  her  from 
their  abundance.  He  would  place  her  with  her 
father,  and  then  seek  his  own  fortune  in  America. 
And  this  he  did,  in  spite  of  her  remonstrances,  and 
her  urgent  wish  to  accompany  him.  The  uncer 
tainties  of  a  career  in  an  untried  country,  forbade 
him  to  peril  the  peace  of  one  so  dear.  He  had 
now  been  in  the  United  States  three  months,  and 
had  recently  heard  of  the  birth  of  a  daughter ;  al 
though,  by  the  tyrannical  contrivance  of  his  father- 
in-law,  the  letters  written  by  his  wife  had  all  been 
withheld.  His  own  letters  to  her  were  also,  with 
out  doubt,  intercepted.  Such  was  Wainbridge's 
story. 

Among  his  present  pupils,  was  a  youth  named 
Hardworth,  the  son  of  a  gentleman  of  reputed 
wealth,  occupying,  not  far  from  Eagleswood,  a 
country-seat,  where  the  family  resided  during  the 
summer  and  autumnal  months.  This  family  con 
sisted  of  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Hardworth,  two  daughters, 
and  a  son,  Master  Ravenstone  Hardworth.  They 
were  proud,  not  only  of  their  rich  possessions,  but 
of  their  ancestral  connexions.  Mr.  Hardworth 
could  boast  his  relationship  to  one  of  the  royal  co 
lonial  governors,  and  his  wife  was  never  weary  of 
impressing  upon  her  children  the  fact,  that  her 
great-grandfather  was  the  nephew  of  an  English 
nobleman,  Sir  Charles  Ravenstone. 

It  has  been  said,  that  none  are  insensible  to  pride 
of  birth,  save  those  whose  genealogy  is  obscure. 
But  we  will  not  think  so  poorly  of  human  nature 
as  to  admit  this.  Illustrious  birth  should  render 


WHICH   MAKES    THE    MAN  ?  23 

us  careful  not  to  tarnish  a  great  name  ;  but  the 
ambition  of  shining  with  reflected  light,  does  not 
speak  much  for  the  credit  of  our  own  virtues  and 
abilities.  In  this  land  of  free  institutions,  there 
are  few  frailties  more  pitiful  than  that  which  leads 
a  man  to  boast  of  his  genealogy.  He  should  rather 
feel  mortification  that  he  is  not  himself  as  great 
or  as  good  as  the  forefather,  from  whose  fame  he 
would  derive  a  claim  to  notice  : 

"  Boast  not  the  titles  of  your  ancestors, 
Brave  youths  !  they're  their  possessions,  none  of  yours." 

Arrogance  of  any  kind  is  the  offspring  of  vul 
garity  and  ignorance.  The  Jlardworths  were, 
consequently,  notwithstanding  their  wealth  and 
ancestry,  as  far  from  being  truly  respectable  as 
the  most  ill-bred  family  in  the  land.  As  for  Mas 
ter  Ravenstone  Hardworth,  he  seemed  to  regard 
himself  as  the  personified  essence  of  all  the  dig 
nity  and  renown  of  his  race  ;  and  having  been 
always  heedlessly  indulged  (poor  fellow !)  by  his 
unwise  parents,  he  grew  up  an  arbitrary,  self-con 
ceited  young  man,  disliked  by  his  dependants,  and 
laughed  at  by  his  equals. 

It  happened  that  there  was  a  poor  blacksmith  in 
the  village,  named  Armstrong,  who  had  a  son, 
whom  he  had  brought  up  to  his  own  trade.  But 
Ralph,  for  that  was  the  lad's  name,  was  not  con 
tent  with  learning  to  shoe  horses  and  to  manufac 
ture  spikes.  He  was  a  good  mechanic,  and  he 
wished  to  make  himself  a  better,  by  the  study  of 
mathematics  and  its  kindred  sciences.  His  father, 
who  had  a  large  family,  could  not,  however,  afford 
him  the  means  of  education  ;  and  poor  Ralph  had 
to  be  content  with  puzzling  by  himself  over  a  few 


24  WEALTH    AND   WORTH;  OR, 

ragged  school-books,  which  he  had  bought  at  a  stall 
in  New  York. 

Mr.  Wainbridge  had  stopped  one  morning  at  the 
blacksmith's  shop  to  have  his  horse's  shoes  re 
paired,  and  Ralph  had  set  about  the  work  with  his 
usual  alacrity,  when  the  young  Oxonian  happened 
to  cast  his  eye  upon  a  volume  of  Euclid,  which 
peeped  forth  from  a  jacket  hung  upon  a  nail.  His 
curiosity  was  at  once  aroused.  He  questioned 
Ralph  about  his  studies  ;  found  that  the  boy  had  a 
decided  taste  for  those  sciences,  to  which  he  him 
self  had  devoted  most  of  his  attention ;  and,  at 
length,  became  so  interested  in  the  self-taught  ge 
ometrician,  that  he  offered  to  instruct  him  gratui 
tously,  if  he  would  attend  his  school  with  the  other 
pupils.  Ralph  was  almost  ready  to  cry  with  joy 
at  the  prospect  of  receiving  the  instruction  he  had 
so  much  desired ;  but  then  the  sense  of  incurring 
an  obligation  which  he  could  not  requite,  checked 
him  as  he  was  about  to  accept  the  generous  offer, 
and  he  said  : 

"  Ah,  sir  !  I  fear  that  my  father,  poor  as  he  is, 
is  too  rich  to  accept  charity.  He  will  not  allow 
me  to  trouble  you  without  a  compensation." 

"  Well,  Ralph,"  said  Mr.  Wainbridge,  "  we  will 
easily  remove  that  objection.  The  doctor  says,  I 
must  ride  on  horseback  every  day.  Now  it  costs 
something  to  keep  a  horse,  and  something  to  have 
him  shod.  Why  can't  your  father  pay  for  your 
instruction,  by  allowing  you  to  take  care  of  my 
nag?" 

"  It  will  do  !  it  will  do  !"  cried  Ralph.  "  Thank 
you,  Mr.  Wainbridge.  I  will  make  his  skin  look 
glossy  as  satin,  and — let  me  see — wait  while  I  trim 


WHICH   MAKES   THE    MAN  ?  25 

his  fetlocks.  A  fine  animal,  Mr.  Wainbridge,  but 
not  properly  rubbed  down  !" 

The  arrangement  was  made.  Ralph,  attired  in 
clean  homespun  clothes,  attended  Mr.  Wainbridge's 
school  daily,  and  made  rapid  progress  in  his  stu 
dies.  As  you  may  guess,  the  skin  of  Mr.  Wain- 
bridge's  nag  looked  all  the  while  as  smooth  and 
sleek  as  a  new  beaver  hat.  Before  many  weeks, 
Ralph  was  considered,  next  to  Henry  Maverick, 
the  best  mathematician  in  the  school,  much  to  the 
disgust  and  envy  of  Mr.  Ravenstone  Hardworth. 

One  day  the  boys  had  been  working  sums  in 
algebra  with  chalk  upon  a  large  blackboard,  in 
view  of  the  whole  school.  The  tutor  had,  for  half 
an  hour,  been  trying  to  explain  to  Hardworth  the 
mode  of  solving  a  certain  problem  ;  but  the  blood 
of  the  Ravenstones  could  not  lighten  up  with  a 
single  ray  the  obtuse  intellect  of  their  descendant. 
At  length,  having  other  pupils  to  attend  to,  Mr. 
Wainbridge-  directed  Armstrong,  who  had  a  singu 
lar  faculty  at  imparting  the  knowledge  he  had  ac 
quired  by  laborious  study,  to  attend  Hardworth  to 
his  desk,  and  assist  him  in  the  solution  of  his  sum. 

The  paltry,  aristocratic  pride,  which  had  been 
inculcated  by  Hardworth's  parents,  rose  up  in  arms 
at  this  proposal ;  and,  with  a  haughty  curl  of  the 
lip,  and  in  a  voice  that  was  audible  to  all  present, 
he  said  : 

"  You  will  oblige  me,  Mr.  Wainbridge,  by  not 
sending  any  of  your  hostlers  to  instruct  me  in  al 
gebra.  I  am  not  partial  to  the  smell  of  a  stable, 
and  permit  me  to  say,  sir,  that  my  mother  thinks  it 
very  strange,  you  should  admit  a  charity-scholar 
among  gentlemen's  sons." 

"  Shame  !  shame !"  cried  Henry  Maverick, 
3 


26  WEALTH    AND    WORTH  ;    OR, 

springing  to  his  feet ;  "  you,  sir,  have  proved  that 
the  son  of  a  gentleman  is  not  always  a  gentleman 
himself." 

"  I  shall  remember  this,'r  replied  Hard  worth, 
raising  his  finger  menacingly. 

Poor  Ralph  started  forward  a  step  with  the  in 
tention  of  knocking  down  his  insulter ;  but  his 
veneration  for  the  proprieties  of  a  school-room, 
and  his  respect  for  his  instructer,  checked  both 
his  fist  and  his  tongue. 

Mr.  Wainbridge  commanded  silence,  and  then 
walked  up  to  Hardworth  and  said  : 

"  I  have  borne  with  your  stupidity,  sir,  with  a 
degree  of  patience  that  I  never  extended  to  any 
other  pupil ;  but  your  insolence  and  brutality  are 
insufferable.  You  may  consider  yourself  no  longer 
a  member  of  my  school." 

"  I  should  consider  it  a  disgrace  to  attend  it  any 
longer,  sir,"  replied  Hardworth  with  effrontery.  "  I 
withdraw  my  patronage  from  you." 

"  Patronage,  blockhead  !"  said  Mr.  Wainbridge, 
laying  his  hand  upon  the  boy's  collar.  "  But,  no. 
Your  insolence  is  unworthy  of  my  anger.  Go, 
sir,  in  peace." 

Hardworth  seized  his  hat,  and  with  a  face 
flushed  with  rage,  said,  in  a  trembling  tone,  "  Send 
me  an  apology  for  this,  or  you  will  repent  it."  He 
turned  to  leave  the  room,  and  some  of  the  schol 
ars  began  to  hiss. 

"  I  have  marked  you !"  he  exclaimed,  looking 
back  ;  "  and  there  are  those  of  you  who  will  pay 
dearly  for  this  day's  conduct  toward  me." 

He  opened  the  door,  shut  it  with  violence,  and 
departed,  while  a  scornful  laugh  arose  from  his  late 
companions. 


WHICH    MAKES    THE    MAN  ?  27 

"  My  young  friends,"  said  Mr.  Wainbridge,who 
lost  no  opportunity  of  impressing  upon  his  pupils 
moral  as  well  as  intellectual  truths,  "  observe  the 
difference  between  a  noble  and  ignoble  pride,  as 
manifested  in  the  example  of  Armstrong  and  of 
Hardworth.  It  is  not  true,  as  that  foolish  young 
man  stated,  that  Ralph  is  a  charity-scholar.  Far 
otherwise  !  He  requites  me  by  a  service,  for  which 
I  would  have  to  pay  more  by  the  month  than  I 
charge  any  pupil  for  his  instruction.  I  offered  to 
instruct  him  gratuitously.  He  declined  the  offer  ; 
and  it  was  a  noble  spirit  of  independence — call  it 
a  noble  pride,  if  you  please — which  induced  him 
to  compensate  me  by  honorable  labor  for  his  school 
ing.  But  what  a  contemptible  pride  is  that  which 
Hardworth  has  displayed  !  The  pride  of  family ! 
of  accidental  circumstance  !  of  mere  external  glit 
ter  !  How  altogether  unworthy  of  a  rational  crea 
ture — how  mean  and  false  is  such  pretension !" 

As  soon  as  school  was  dismissed,  our  friend 
Harry  took  Ralph  by  the  hand,  and  invited  him  to 
make  such  use  as  he  pleased  of  the  library  at 
Eagleswood — an  invitation  which  was  gratefully 
accepted. 

Not  many  days  after  the  occurrence  in  the 
school-room,  as  Henry  Maverick  was  proceeding 
across  a  field  to  join  Mr.  Wainbridge,  whom  he 
had  observed  at  a  distance,  he  saw  Ravenstone 
Hardworth  issue  from  a  wood,  and,  with  a  stick  in 
his  hand,  confront  his  late  tutor.  Harry  was  too 
far  off  to  hear  the  conversation  that  ensued,  but  it 
was  evidently  of  an  angry  character.  Mr.  Wain- 
bridge  seemed  to  motion  Ravenstone  away,  where 
upon  the  latter  struck  him  violently  with  a  stick, 
and  the  two  immediately  grappled. 


28  WEALTH   AND    WORTH  ;    OR, 

Wainbridge  was  enfeebled  by  indisposition,  and 
far  inferior  in  strength  and  weight  to  Ravenstone, 
who  was  of  a  robust,  burly  frame.  The  tutor 
would  have  mastered  him,  however,  had  not  the 
foot  of  the  former  encountered  a  stump,  by  which 
he  was  tripped  up — his  head  striking  with  some 
violence  against  the  trunk  of  a  tree,  and  rendering 
him  senseless  for  a  time. 

Just  at  this  juncture,  Henry  Maverick  came  up, 
and,  as  Hardworth  was  about  to  apply  the  stick  to 
the  prostrate  tutor,  exclaimed,  "  Coward  !  turn  !" 

An  ordinary  observer  would  have  said  that  the 
boys  were  unequally  matched  in  a  struggle  of 
mere  brute  power  and  force.  Hardworth  was  the 
taller  by  nearly  a  head,  and  it  was  evident  that  in 
a  close  tussle  he  would  have  the  advantage.  Har 
ry  was  rather  slim,  in  consequence  of  his  recent 
illness,  and  he  had  not  completely  recovered  his 
strength.  He  had  perfect  confidence,  however,  in 
his  superiority  ;  for  he  was  extremely  agile,  and 
had  learned  from  his  fencing-master  a  variety  of 
arts,  by  which  skill  is  made  to  supply  the  place 
of  brute  force. 

On  seeing  Hardworth  approach  with  a  stick, 
his  first  object  was  to  disarm  him,  and  this  he  ea 
sily  effected  by  a  sleight  of  hand  so  sudden,  that 
Hardworth  did  not  know  he  had  been  deprived 
of  his  weapon  until  he  saw  it  flying  into  the  arms 
of  a  neighboring  tree.  He  now  attempted  to  close 
with  his  antagonist,  and,  by  lifting  him  in  his  arms, 
to  throw  him  with  violence  to  the  ground.  But 
Harry  evaded  his  embrace,  and  struck  him  a  blow 
which  sent  him  backward  some  paces.  Infuriated 
at  being  baffled  by  one  so  much  his  inferior  in  size, 
Hardworth  pushed  forward  like  a  mad  bull,  and  in 


WHICH    MAKKS    THE    MAN  ?  29 

spite  of  some  well-directed  blows,  attempted  to 
clutch  his  opponent  by  the  collar.  Harry  inten 
tionally  allowed  him  to  effect  this,  but,  in  a  mo 
ment,  struck  the  fleshy  part  of  his  arm  imme 
diately  under  the  shoulder  in  such  a  manner  as 
nearly  to  dislocate  the  limb  from  its  socket,  com 
pelling  him  to  abandon  his  hold,  and  to  scream 
with  pain.  Then  quietly  knocking  him  down  into 
a  furrow  of  soft  earth,  where  he  might  lie  at  his 
ease,  Harry  flew  to  his  friend  Wainbridge,  who 
had  begun  to  recover  from  the  effects  of  his  fall. 
Bringing  some  water  in  a  leaf  from  a  spring,  he 
rubbed  his  head,  and  soon  had  the  satisfaction  of 
seeing  him  fully  revived. 

"  Thank  you,  Harry ;  I  am  quite  recovered," 
said  Mr.  Wainbridge,  rising  and  taking  his  young 
friend's  arm. 

"  Then  permit  me,  sir,  just  to  inflict  a  little 
more  chastisement  upon  that  brutal  fellow,  Hard- 
worth.  See,  he  is  limping  away ;  and  now  he 
turns,  and  shakes  his  fist.  Let  me  give  him  one 
more  lesson." 

"  No,  Harry.  His  own  reflections  will  be  pun 
ishment  enough.  I  am  truly  sorry  that  you  have 
been  involved,  on  my  account,  in  a  contest  of 
brute  force.  Never,  except  for  the  immediate 
protection  of  yourself  or  another,  would  I  have 
you  lift  your  arm  against  a  fellow-creature.  I  do 
not  well  see  how  you  could  have  avoided  it  in  this 
case.  But  any  further  chastisement  from  you 
would  be  at  the  instigation  of  revenge.  Let  us 
guard  against  that  hateful  passion.  How  misera 
ble  it  has  made,  and  will  continue  to  make  poor 
Hardworth !" 

3* 


30  WEALTH   AND   WORTH  ;   OR, 

"And  do  you  forgive  him  for  his  outrageous 
attack  ?" 

"  Most  readily.  I  know  too  well  the  force  of 
unbridled  passion.  I  am  myself  too  apt  to  give 
way  to  it,  but  never  without  an  after-feeling  of 
degradation." 

"  But  would  you  not  have  me  resent  an  insult  as 
well  as  an  injury  ?" 

"  I  would  have  you  resent  neither,  except  so  far 
as  the  instinct  of  self-preservation  would  lead  you. 
If  you  go  beyond  that,  impelled  by  the  unworthy 
passion  of  hatred  or  of  revenge,  you  do  wrong.  It 
would  be  difficult  to  insult  a  man  of  a  perfectly 
pure  character.  The  attempt  would  be  apt  to  re 
coil  of  itself  upon  the  aggressor.  I  suspect  you 
think  I  am  too  pacific,  if  not  too  timid,  in  my 
notions." 

"  Timid  !  Oh,  no,  sir,  no  !  You  must  not  sup 
pose  I  have  not  heard  how  you  risked  your  life 
the  other  day  in  saving  the  blind  idiot  girl,  Edith, 
from  the  attack  of  a  mad  dog.  There  was  no 
timidity  shown  there." 

"  Well,  supposing,  for  the  sake  of  the  argument, 
that  I  did,  with  the  view  of  rescuing  a  fellow- 
creature,  expose  myself  to  the  imminent  danger 
of  contracting  that  most  fatal  and  revolting  of  all 
maladies,  hydrophobia  ; — the  next  day,  I  meet  a 
man  in  Wall-street,  who  calls  me  a  coward.  Am 
I  insulted,  either  in  my  own  estimation  or  that  of 
those  who  know  me,  by  an  accusation  which  my 
acts  prove  to  be  false  ?" 

"  Not  at  all.  You  can  afford  to  pass  it  by  ;  but 
a  young  man,  whose  character  for  decision  and 
courage  is  not  established — who  hardly  knows  him 
self  whether  he  would  act  like  a  brave  man  or  a 


\VHICH    MAKES    THE    MAN  ?  31 

coward  in  an  emergency — such  a  one,  I  think, 
should  knock  down  his  accuser/' 

"  Ah,  Harry,  if  you  question  your  own  heart, 
you  will  find  that  there  is  often  more  courage  in 
endurance  than  in  action.  But,  even  in  action, 
learn  to  distinguish  true  courage  from  mere  con 
stitutional  obtuseness  : 

'  The  brave  man  is  not  he  "who  feels  no  fear, 
For  that  were  stupid  and  irrational ; 
But  he,  whose  noble  soul  its  fear  subdues, 
And  bravely  dares  the  danger  nature  shrinks  from.' 

"  Let  us  hope,  my  dear  Harry,  that  the  time  is 
coming  when  mind  will  assert  its  true  empire  ; 
when  the  law  of  physical  force  shall  no  longer 
influence  nations  or  individuals  ;  and  when  that  ad 
miration  with  which  military  exploits  and  military 
glory  are  even  in  this  age  regarded,  will  be  re 
called  as  one  of  the  frivolities  of  the  infancy  of 
mankind.  What  a  difference  between  the  age  of 
chivalry  and  our  own !  May  not  our  posterity, 
some  three  hundred  years  hence,  look  back  with 
a  smile  upon  much  that  we  regard  with  gravity 
and  reverence  ?" 

The  sun  was  sinking  brilliantly,  when  Harry 
bade  his  instructor  good  evening,  and  took  his  way 
up  one  of  the  long  gravelled  walks  that  led  to  his 
home.  The  mansion,  painted  of  a  pure  white, 
was  delicately  tinted  in  front  with  the  crimson 
light  from  the  west.  The  trees  bowed  their  tops 
lightly  to  the  soft  airs  of  twilight.  Up  and  down 
the  river,  a  number  of  small  vessels,  with  their 
sails  all  spread,  were  lazily  gliding.  Emmeline 
came  forth  to  meet  her  brother,  with  laughter  and 
singing ;  and  Harry,  as  he  twined  his  fingers 


32 


WEALTH    AND    WORTH  ;    OR, 


through  her  thick  brown  curls,  and  gazed  with  her 
upon  the  calm,  harmonious  landscape,  forgot  that 
the  face  of  nature  and  the  heart  of  man  had  ever 
been  disfigured  by  storms,  or  that  the  earth  had 
ever  been  stained  by  war  and  carnage. 


'l    I, 


WHICH    MAKES    THE    MAN  ?  33 


CHAPTER  III. 

"  Youth  at  the  prow,  and  pleasure  at  the  helm !"— GHAT. 

THE  time  was  now  rapidly  approaching,  when 
Henry  Maverick  was  to  leave  his  home  for  the 
university.  In  accordance  with  Mr.  Wainbridge's 
advice,  he  concluded  to  go  to  Cambridge  ;  and 
he  pursued  the  studies  requisite  for  his  admission, 
with  industry  and  zeal.  At  length  the  period  for 
examination  arrived.  In  company  with  some  fifty 
young  men  of  various  ages,  he  entered  the  recita 
tion-rooms  of  Harvard — was  examined  in  mathe 
matics  and  the  classics,  and  admitted  uncondition 
ally  a  member  of  the  freshman  class. 

It  is  no  unimportant  epoch  in  a  boy's  life,  when 
he  enters  college,  and  assumes,  for  the  first  time, 
the  toga  virilis — the  black  dress-coat  of  the  student. 
Harry  was  not  yet  quite  a  philosopher  ;  and,  dur 
ing  the  brief  vacation  between  the  period  of  his 
admission  to  the  university,  and  the  commence 
ment  of  his  studies,  he  returned  to  New  York,  put 
up  at  a  fashionable  hotel,  and  ordered  two  or  three 
fashionable  suits  of  clothes.  Having  attired  him 
self  in  one,  which  he  conceived  to  be  the  "  tightest 
fit,"  and  examined  it  an  hour  or  two  in  the  glass, 
he  issued  forth  into  Broadway,  and  made  one  of 
the  elegant  loungers  in  that  crowded  thoroughfare. 
Ah !  Harry,  Harry !  I  am  afraid  you  will  become 
a  little  dandy. 


WEALTH  AND    WORTH;    OR, 

The  next  day  he  drove  up  to  Eagleswood  with 
his  father.  As  he  jumped  out  of  the  carriage, 
Mrs.  Maverick  received  him  with  tears  of  happi 
ness  ;  Emmeline  pressed  forward  to  obtain  a  kiss  ; 
old  Mingo  stood  by,  rolling  up  the  whites  of  his 
eyes,  and  showing  his  teeth  in  a  grin  ;  and  Hotspur 
barked  and  scampered  round  as  if  he  wished  to 
have  it  appear  that  he  was  more  rejoiced  than  any 
of  them  to  sed  his  young  master.  They  all  wel 
comed  him,  and  were  welcomed  in  return. 

"  Why,  Emmeline,  you  have  actually  grown  in 
the  three  weeks  I  have  been  away,"  said  Harry, 
parting  the  hair  from  her  forehead  with  both  his 
hands,  and  impressing  a  kiss  upon  its  alabaster 
surface. 

"  Oh,  Massa  Harry,  I  tell  you  what,"  said  old 
Mingo,  who  seemed  supremely  happy  ;  "  Missy 
Emmeline  grows  jist  like  the  corn  in  ole  Vagin- 
ny — so  fast,  you  can  hear  it.  Whorrah !  Yah, 
yah,  yah !" 

"  Stop  that,  Mingo,  if  you  don't  want  this  whip 
over  your  shoulders." 

"  Yah,  yah,  yah !  'Cause  Massa  Harry's  got 
on  his  long-tail  blue,  he  feel  big  as  a  snake  swal 
lowing  a  coon.  Yah,  yah !" 

Harry  made  a  feint  of  hitting  the  privileged  old 
negro,  whereupon  Mingo  dodged,  and  bursting  into 
renewed  peals  of  laughter,  strolled  away  to  the 
stable  to  attend  to  the  horses,  shaking  his  head,  and 
hitching  up  his  shoulders,  with  the  persuasion  that 
he  had  perpetrated  the  best  possible  joke. 

As  for  Emmeline,  it  seemed  as  if  her  delight 
were  never  to  cease.  She  walked  around  her 
brother  with  mock  gravity,  examining  his  college 
dress,  and  clapping  her  hands  at  his  manly  ap~ 


WHICH    MAKES    THE    MAN  ?  35 

pearance  ;  and  then,  leading  him  into  the  parlor, 
she  danced  about  him,  singing  her  favorite  old 
song— 

"  We  will  flit  as  bright  as  spring ; 
We  will  naught  but  pleasure  bring ; 
We  will  teach  the  world  to  be 
Happy,  blithe,  and  gay  as  we." 

The  few  weeks  which  Harry  passed  at  Eagles- 
wood,  preparatory  to  removing  to  Cambridge,  were 
among  the  happiest  he  had  yet  known.  His  birth 
day  was  near  at  hand,  and  Mrs.  Maverick  was 
making  arrangements  to  celebrate  it  by  a  grand 
fete.  A  gay  party  of  ladies  and  gentlemen  from 
the  city,  with  many  young  people,  were  invited. 
A  tent,  adorned  with  flags  and  streamers,  was 
erected  upon  a  smooth  lawn,  to  which  a  noble 
grove  of  chestnuts  formed  a  back-ground.  A  band 
of  musicians  were  engaged.  Mr.  Edge  furnished 
a  supply  of  fire-works ;  while  viands  of  the  most 
delicate  kind  were  procured  from  Delmonico's. 

At  length  the  important  day  arrived.  Long 
before  sunrise,  Emmeline  had  risen,  put  on  her 
morning  dress,  and  run  out  upon  the  piazza,  to  dis 
cover  whether  there  were  signs  of  fair  weather. 
With  what  anxiety  did  she  watch  the  light  purple 
clouds,  as  they  flitted  across  the  gray  sky  of  morn 
ing  !  Did  those  walls  of  vapor  along  the  eastern 
sky  betoken  rain  ?  No.  They  begin  to  be  tinged 
with  crimson.  The  sun,  the  glorious  sun  is  be 
hind  them!  And  now  they  break  away,  and  dis 
perse  before  his  golden  arrows.  It  will  be  a  beau 
tiful  day!  Huzza!  Run,  Emmeline,  and  knock 
at  Harry's  door !  Louder !  How  soundly  he 
sleeps  !  Bang,  bang,  bang  !  There  !  He  has 


36  WEALTH    AND    WORTH  J    OR, 

heard  you  at  last ;  and  rising,  throws  open  his 
window. 

Old  Mingo  has  risen  also.  What  a  great  man 
he  believes  himself  to  be  to-day  !  I  will  tell  you 
a  little  story  about  Mingo.  During  the  last  war 
between  the  United  States  and  Great  Britain,  when 
he  lived  with  Mr.  Maverick  in  Virginia,  he  was  in 
constant  alarm  lest  the  enemy  should  invade  that 
part  of  the  country.  He  came  to  his  master  one 
day,  with  an  air  of  mysterious  importance,  and 
proposed,  that  a  company  of  "  the  colored  gem'- 
men"  of  the  plantation  should  be  raised,  and 
placed  under  his  command,  to  be  drilled  for  service. 
Mr.  Maverick,  though  disposed  to  laugh  heartily 
at  the  idea,  preserved  his  gravity,  and  pretended 
to  be  much  pleased  with  the  valorous  proposition. 
He  remembered  that  there  was  in  the  garret  a  suit 
of  uniform,  with  a  cocked  hat,  and  a  big  rusty 
sword  and  trappings,  which  had  belonged  to  a 
British  officer  during  the  revolution.  These  he 
ordered  to  be  brought  down,  and,  drawing  the 
sword,  which  almost  stuck  to  the  scabbard  with 
rust,  he  directed  Mingo  to  kneel  in  the  presence 
of  several  of  his  companions ;  then  hitting  him 
a  pretty  smart  blow  upon  the  back  with  the  flat  of 
the  blade,  Mr.  Maverick  ordered  him  to  rise  up 
"  General  Mingo." 

Never  did  belted  knight  rise  with  more  exulta 
tion  and  pride  from  his  monarch's  ennobling  touch, 
than  Mingo  did  from  his  master's  somewhat  vigor 
ous  application  of  the  sword.  He  looked  round 
with  a  fierce  air  upon  the  admiring  slaves  who 
accompanied  him,  and  then,  receiving  the  sword, 
the  cocked  hat,  and  uniform  from  his  master, 
placed  his  hand  gallantly  upon  his  heart,  and 


WHICH    MAKES    THE    MAN?  37 

bowed  and  withdrew  with  his  awe-stricken  train. 
From  that  day  forward,  General  Mingo  believed 
himself  to  be  a  very  great  man  ;  and,  in  this  world, 
you  will  find  that  often  the  first  step  to  being 
thought  great  by  others,  is  to  persuade  ourselves 
of  the  fact.  While  the  war  lasted,  he  flourished 
among  the  blacks  of  the  plantation  as  the  most 
tremendous  warrior  of  the  day  ;  and  always  after 
ward,  on  the  fourth  of  July  and  other  anniversary 
occasions,  the  "  General"  would  put  on  his  regi 
mental  dress,  and  strut  about  in  places  where  he 
was  most  likely  to  attract  attention.  There  was 
one  little  inconsistency,  which  a  critical  eye  might 
have  noticed.  Although  professing  to  be  a  great 
patriot,  Mingo  wore  the  uniform  of  the  enemy. 
But  of  this  circumstance  he  had  never  been  made 
aware. 

Upon  the  joyful  occasion,  which  was  now  to  be 
signalized  at  Eagleswood,  Mingo — I  beg  pardon — 
General  Mingo,  had  rubbed  up  his  old  sword,  and 
brushed  his  faded  uniform  and  his  cocked  hat, 
•with  unusual  care.  With  the  assistance  of  two 
or  three  of  his  colored  co-patriots,  he  then  arrayed 
himself  in  his  martial  dress,  put  his  belt,  with  the 
sword  attached,  round  his  waist,  and,  thus  ac 
coutred,  walked  forth  to  play  his  part  in  the  pro 
ceedings  of  the  day,  followed  by  Hotspur,  barking 
louder  than  ever,  and  some  half  dozen  vagrant 
boys,  who  made  themselves  hoarse  with  huzza 
ing.  Occasionally,  the  sword  would  swing  be 
tween  the  general's  legs,  nearly  upsetting  him, 
and  materially  disturbing  his  military  dignity  ;  and, 
now  and  then,  it  would  strike  his  shins  in  a  man 
ner  to  make  him  grimace  with  pain ;  but  these 
4 


38  WEALTH    AND    WORTH  ;    OR, 

were  trifling  inconveniences,  more  than  repaid  by 
the  glory  which  he  reaped. 

Early  in  the  forenoon,  one  of  the  numerous 
steamboats,  that  ply  between  the  adjacent  towns 
and  the  island  of  Manhattan,  stopped  at  the  pier 
at  Eagleswood  and  landed  the  expected  company, 
including  the  band  of  musicians.  General  Mingo 
received  them  in  ceremonious  state,  at  the  land 
ing-place,  and  the  band  followed  him  up  to  the 
lawp  before  the  house,  playing  "  Hail  to  the  chief, 
who  in  triumph  advances."  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Maver 
ick  and  their  children  stood  upon  the  marble  es 
planade  that  surrounded  the  house,  and  extended 
to  their  visiters  a  cordial  welcome. 

How  prettily  Emmeline  looked  in  her  neat  fan 
cy  dress  of  white  trimmed  with  blue,  and  her  laced 
boddice,  after  the  style  of  the  Swiss  peasants! 
The  hue  of  health  was  upon  her  cheek.  Her  eyes 
sparkled  with  animation  and  pleasure ;  and,  as 
she  extended  her  hands  or  courtesied  to  the  guests 
as  they  arrived,  her  ingenuous  smile  and  happy 
looks  told,  better  than  words,  that  her  welcome 
was  sincere. 

The  company  was  selected  principally  from  the 
fashionable  city  acquaintances  of  Mrs.  Maverick. 
There  were  the  Van  Rapps,  with  their  gay  daugh 
ter  and  foppish  son ;  Mr.  Splash,  a  young  man 
whose  ambition  lay  in  having  the  fastest  trotting- 
horse  that  was  to  be  seen  on  the  third  avenue  ; 
Mrs.  Sumpter,  a  lady  of  wealth,  with  her  pretty 
daughter,  Marian  ;  Mr.  Buzz,  with  a  live  English 
baronet,  Sir  William  Ormsby,  of  whom  my  read 
ers  have  already  heard  something ;  Augustus  Er 
mine,  a  lad  of  large  expectations  ;  Mr.  Brown,  a 
retired  lawyer  of  eccentric  manners ;  and  Mrs. 


WHICH    MAKES    THE    MAN  ?  39 

Danton,  with  her  two  daughters,  Lucy  and  Har 
riet.  In  addition  to  all  these,  there  were  Mr. 
Wainbridge,  and  a  number  of  Harry's  old  school 
mates.  Ralph  Armstrong  had  been  asked  to  be 
present,  but  fearing  that  he  should  not  feel  at  home 
among  the  rich  and  fashionable,  he  had  declined 
the  invitation,  promising,  however,  that  he  would 
come  round  in  the  evening  to  witness  the  fire 
works.  Mr.  Brudenel,  with  his  pale,  dark-haired 
daughter,  had  joined  the  party.  On  seeing  Mary, 
Henry  Maverick  could  not  but  feel  a  momentary 
pang  as  he  thought,  "  How  Charley  would  have  en 
joyed  this ;"  and  as  he  took  her  hand  and  wel 
comed  her  to  Eagleswood,  the  eyes  of  each  drop 
ped  a  transitory  tear,  as  if  the  thought  had  simul 
taneously  occurred  to  their  minds. 

The  gay,  brilliant  music  of  the  band,  which  was 
playing  a  variety  of  favorite  marches  and  quad 
rilles  in  the  centre  of  the  garden,  between  two 
fountains  that  sent  their  sparkling  waters  high  into 
the  air  in  fantastic  columns — the  laughing  and 
chatting  of  the  various  guests,  as  they  promenaded 
to  the  tunes — the  bright,  sunny  prospect,  and  the 
mellow  warmth  of  the  atmosphere,  formed  a  com 
bination  of  influences,  by  no  means  favorable  to 
the  indulgence  of  melancholy ;  and  Harry  soon 
launched  into  the  amusements  of  the  day  with  his 
constitutional  vivacity.  Every  one  seemed  to  have 
a  pleasant  compliment  or  a  good  wish  for  his  ear  ; 
nay,  I  fear  that  there  was  some  flattery,  to  which 
my  hero  was  not  wholly  insensible,  mingled  with 
the  praise.  For  instance,  why  did  Mrs.  Sumpter, 
as  she  introduced  Miss  Marian,  intimate  that  she 
should  be  perfectly  happy  if  she  had  such  a  son  ? 

'*  Would  not  a   son-in-law   answer   your  pur- 


40  WEALTH    AND    WORTH  ,    OR, 

pose  ?"  inquired  Harry,  gallantly  offering  his  arm 
to  the  young  lady. 

Marian  blushed  ;  and  Mrs.  Sumpter,  apparently 
delighted  at  the  idea,  struck  him  under  the  chin 
with  her  fan,  calling  him  a  "  forward,  naughty 
boy." 

Harry  showed  the  young  lady  the  finest  parts 
of  the  garden,  gathered  her  a  bouquet,  and  then 
committed  her  to  the  care  of  Mr.  Wainbridge, 
while  he  went  to  attend  to  other  guests. 

As  he  was  proceeding  toward  Mrs.  Danton,  he 
was  stopped  by  Master  Ermine,  who  mysteriously 
inquired  "  where  the  punch  was  ?"  Harry  profess 
ed  his  ignorance,  whereupon  Master  Ermine  pro 
posed  that  they  should  "  cut  the  old  people  and 
the  girls,  and  go  to  the  stable  and  smoke  cigars." 
This  proposal  was  declined ;  and  the  hopeful 
young  roue  then  intimated  that  it  would  give  him 
great  satisfaction,  and  afford  great  sport,  "  to  sell 
that  priggish  old  fellow,  Brown." 

"  To  this  Harry  replied,  that  if  by  "  selling,"  was 
meant  playing  off  any  trick  upon  his  venerable 
guest,  he  could  not  think,  for  a  moment,  of  suffer 
ing  any  such  breach  of  hospitality  to  be  commit 
ted. 

"  What  a  spiritless  fellow  !"  muttered  Master 
Ermine,  walking  away  to  where  General  Mingo 
was  entertaining  a  select  audience  by  a  recital  of 
his  exploits  during  the  last  war. 

As  Harry  moved  off  in  a  different  direction,  lie 
encountered  Mr.  Brown,  who  rather  gruffly  re 
marked  :  "  Well,  Master  Harry,  all  this  is  very 
nice." 

"  I  hope  it  pleases  you,  sir,"  replied  Harry. 

"  Humph !  I  suppose  all  these  people  are  trying 


WHICH    MAKES  THE  MAN  ?  41 

to  persuade  you  that  you  are  a  mighty  clever 
young  fellow." 

"  Why,  indeed,  sir,  it  is  natural  that  they  should 
try  to  say  pleasant  things  to  me  on  my  birthday." 

"  All  humbug,  Harry.  It  isn't  you,  but  Eagles- 
wood,  and  this  nice  estate,  that  they  have  in  their 
eye.  If  you  were  a  black  dwarf,  instead  of  a  tol 
erably  decent  looking  young  fellow,  it  would  be 
just  the  same.  Bah  !" 

"  Ah,  sir,  you  are  too  cynical.  But  see  !  A  lady 
is  beckoning  to  me  ;  and  I  need  not  apologize  for 
leaving  you  for  a  while." 

"  Poor  young  man,  to  be  born  to  such  a  fortune  !" 
muttered  Mr.  Brown,  as  Harry  passed  on.  "  He 
might  have  a  chance  of  developing  himself,  were 
he  only  obliged  to  carve  his  own  way  in  the 
world." 

Among  the  guests  were  Sir  William  Ormsby, 
and  his  poor  brother-in-law,  Wainbridge.  The 
baronet  had  started,  and  bit  his  lips,  on  recognising 
the  latter,  who,  though  burning  with  anxiety  to 
hear  from  his  wife,  did  not  seek  to  accost  her 
brother,  on  observing  his  repulsive  glance  and 
haughty  demeanor.  Mr.  Maverick,  who  was  not 
aware  of  the  relationship,  noticed  Sir  William's 
agitation,  and  inquired  if  he  knew  Wainbridge. 
The  baronet  coolly  raised  his  eye-glass,  and  de 
clared  that  he  neither  knew  him  nor  wished  to 
know  him. 

There  was  no  other  occurrence  to  mar  the  har 
mony  of  any  of  the  visitors .  A  sumptuous  colla 
tion  was  spread  in  the  tent,  to  which  the  company 
sat  down,  while  the  band  played  without.  Harry's 
health  was  drunk — in  lemonade,  by  the  young 
people,  and  in  champagne  by  the  old.  Master 
4* 


42  WEALTH   AND    WORTH  ;    OR, 

Ermine  chose  to  consider  himself  among  the  lat 
ter  ;  and  the  consequence  was,  that,  before  dinner 
was  over,  Harry  had  to  consign  him  to  the  care 
of  General  Mingo,  who  conducted  him  safely  to  a 
bedroom,  where  he  slept  off  the  effects  of  his  in 
discreet  indulgence. 

On  quitting  the  table,  the  company  separated 
into  groups  to  seek  amusements  to  their  taste. 
Some  went  to  the  nine-pin  alley  to  bowl,  and 
some  to  the  archery-ground  to  shoot  at  a  target. 
Mr.  Splash  strolled  toward  the  stable,  to  see  the 
horses  and  smoke  a  cigar,  accompanied  by  the 
baronet  and  Master  Van  Rapp.  Mr.  Brown  went 
to  turn  over  the  books  in  the  library ;  and  Mary 
Brudenel  and  Emmeline  amused  themselves  by 
strolling  from  group  to  group  to  see  the  employ 
ments  of  all. 

Mr.  Wainbridge  put  Harry's  arm  within  his 
own,  and  proposed  a  walk.  Both  moved  on  in 
silence  for  a  few  minutes.  Mr.  Wainbridge  was 
the  first  to  speak  : 

"  Well,  Harry,  you  are  to  leave  us  in  the  morn 
ing  for  Cambridge  ?" 

"  Yes,  sir ;  and  I  need  not  say  how  much  I 
shall  regret  the  loss  of  your  counsel  and  your 
company." 

"  I  probably  have  the  more  reason  to  regret  our 
separation.  I  would  say  much  to  you,  Harry,  for 
your  guidance  ;  but  I  fear  you  are  one  of  those 
who  are  destined  to  derive  all  their  important  les 
sons  in  human  life  from  experience." 

"  Why  so,  sir  ?" 

"  Because  you  are  apt  to  act  rather  from  im 
pulse  than  from  principle  ;  and  impulses  vary,  but 
principles  are  unchangeable.  I  will  tell  you  the 


WHICH    MAKES    THE    MAN  ?  43 

most  difficult  lesson  you  have  to  acquire — it  is  to 
learn  to  say  no." 

"  A  lesson  very  quickly  learned,  I  should  think, 
sir." 

"  And  yet  one  in  which  I  fear  you  will  too  often 
fail.  You  are  of  too  malleable  a  temper,  Harry, 
and  too  easily  take  impressions  from  those  around 
you.  If  you  go  astray,  it  will  be  in  following  the 
example  of  others  rather  than  your  own  tastes." 

"  I  will  try  to  profit,  sir,  by  your  exposure  of  my 
failing." 

"  Never,  my  dear  Harry,  indulge  in  profligate 
pleasures  upon  the  miserable  plea  of  studying  life, 
and  seeing  the  world.  Such  excuses  will  suggest 
themselves  as  a  palliation  for  the  vilest  excesses  ; 
but,  O  !  remember  what  the  wise  man  says  :  '  The 
knowledge  of  wickedness  is  not  wisdom,  neither  at 
any  time  the  counsel  of  sinners  prudence?  The 
time  may  come  when  you  will  wish  to  unlearn 
such  knowledge — when  you  would  give  all  your 
worldly  possessions  to  attain  the  state  of  innocent 
ignorance  in  which  you  once  lived." 

"  I  am  not  ambitious,  sir,  to  shine  in  those  walks 
in  which  Splash  and  Ermine  are  precociously  dis 
tinguished." 

"  Study  not  only  the  classics  and  the  sciences, 
but  the  moral  and  physical  laws  of  your  nature. 
I  fear  that  too  little  attention  is  paid  to  these  in 
our  systems  of  education.  But  bear  in  mind  that 
you  are  under  a  responsibility  to  your  Maker,  both 
for  the  care  of  your  soul  and  your  body.  Inatten 
tion  to  health — a  heedless  violation  of  the  physical 
laws  of  our  nature,  is  an  offence,  of  which  no  con 
scientious  man  should  be  guilty.  It  is  followed 


44  WEALTH    AND    WORTH  ;    OR, 

by  pain,  as  vice  is  by  misery,  and  both  are  culpa 
ble  in  their  several  degrees." 

"  I  think  that  I  understand  you,  sir.  But  how 
many  worthy,  pious  people  would  stare  at  your 
doctrine  !" 

"  They  must  do  so  then  from  want  of  reflection. 
God  would  never  have  given  us  the  faculties  for 
discovering  the  laws  of  our  nature,  if  he  did 
not  mean  that  those  laws  should  be  religiously 


obeyed." 
'    "  I  admit 


admit  the  principle." 

"  Let  me  give  you  one  more  hint.  Methodize 
the  disposition  of  your  time.  It  is  astonishing 
how  much  one  may  accomplish  by  method.  Have 
your  stated  hours  for  study,  for  reading,  for  exer 
cise,  and  for  social  intercourse  ;  and  suffer  no  un 
important  inducement  to  cause  you  to  break  in 
upon  your  system." 

"  I  am  aware  of  the  advantages  of  such  a 
course." 

"  Well,  I  have  volumes  to  say  to  you  ;  but  let 
me  condense  them  all  in  this  :  accustom  yourself 
to  the  ever-constant  conviction,  that  you  are  an 
immortal  being,  placed  for  wise,  though  unseen 
purposes,  in  a  state  of  discipline  and  probation. 
Never  forget,  for  an  instant,  that  not  only  your  ac 
tions  in  this  world,  but  your  most  secret  thoughts 
and  impulses,  are  ever  open  to  the  all-comprehend 
ing  eye-  of  God.  Let  these  great  truths  become 
intertwined  with  every  moment's  consciousness. 
Lift  up  your  soul  in  prayer  to  the  throne  of  grace 
for  strength  and  purification  ;  and  then,  my  dear 
Harry,  you  will  prepare  yourself  to  escape  a  thou 
sand  snares,  that  waylay  the  path  of  the  young  and 
unthinking." 


WHICH    MAKES    THE    MAN  ?  45 

"  I  fear  that  I  have  not  thought  of  these  things 
enough,"  said  Harry,  contemplatively. 

"  Do  not  adopt  the  false  notion  that  a  settled  and 
active  religious  faith  is  inconsistent  with  cheer 
fulness,  and  the  blameless  pleasures  of  life.  On 
the  contrary,  true  religion  not  only  alleviates  our 
sorrows,  but  heightens  our  joys." 

"  I  hope  I  may  attain  it." 

"  But  I  did  not  mean  to  choose  this  occasion, 
Harry,  for  lecturing  you.  Come  ;  you  must  attend, 
to  your  guests.  It  will  soon  be  dark  enough  for 
the  fireworks." 

They  moved  toward  the  house.  A  number  of 
ladies  had  assembled  in  the  drawing-room  to  hear 
Emmeline  sing.  What  a  clear,  happy,  melodious 
voice  was  hers  !  It  came  from  a  pure  and  grate 
ful  heart ;  and,  like  the  gushing  notes  of  the  wild 
bird,  made  the  hearer  instinctively  look  up  to  hea 
ven.  After  she  had  concluded  one  song,  there 
was  a  general  demand  for  another.  "  Well,"  said 
the  maiden,  "I  will  sing  you  a  little  song,  that 
Harry  wrote  for  me  last  summer.  He  called  it 
'  The  Gay  Deceiver.' " — She  sang  ;  and  so  much 
pleased  was  I  with  the  graceful  playfulness  which 
she  imparted  to  the  piece,  that  I  obtained  a  copy. 
Here  it  is : — 

THE    GAT   DECEIVER. 
I. 

Summer  wind  !    Summer  wind  ! 

Where  hast  thou  been  ? 
Chasing  the  gossamer 

Over  the  green  ? 
Rifling  the  cowslip's  wealth 

Down  in  the  dale  ? 
Light-pinioned  pilferer ! 

Tell  me  thy  tale. 


46  WEALTH    AND    WORTH  ;    OR, 


"  I  am  a  rover  gay, 

Dashing  and  free ! 
Now  on  the  land  astray, 

Now  on  the  sea. 
I  quaff  the  honey  breath 

Of  the  young  rose ; 
I  kiss  the  violet, 

Where  the  brook  flows." 


Out  on  thee,  libertine ! 

Fickle  !  untrue ! 
Leaving  the  violet, 

Whom  wilt  thou  woo  ? 
Canst  thou  delighted  be 

With  hearts  undone  ? 
Canst  thou  be  faithful,  sir, 

Never  to  one  ? 


"  Ah  !  hear  me,  maiden  dear, 

Turn  not  away ! 
I  have  a  truant  been 

Until  to-day. 
But  now  I  find  a  home, 

Where  I  will  rest ; 
Captive,  I  sink  at  length, 

Here  on  thy  breast." 

The  fireworks  were  let  off  without  any  accident 
to  mar  the  exhibition.  The  rockets  rose  and  fell 
in  fountains  of  sparks  down  the  sky.  The  stars, 
and  wheels,  and  Roman  candles  glittered  and  van 
ished  like  all  human  delights.  At  nine  o'clock 
the  steamboat  touched  again  at  the  wharf;  the 
band  struck  up  "  Auld  Lang  Syne  ;"  and  those  of 
the  guests,  who  did  not  choose  to  remain  all  night 
at  Eagleswood,  went  on  board. 

It  had  been  a  happy  occasion  for  both  Har- 


WHICH    MAKES    THE    MAN  ? 


47 


ry  and  Emmeline.  Never,  thought  they,  were 
there  kinder  friends  than  those  who  had  that  day 
been  their  guests.  Harry  mentally  excepted  Mr. 
Brown  from  the  list.  "  An  envious  old  fellow  that !" 
thought  he  ;  "  for  while  I  was  trying  to  be  civil  to 
him,  he  told  me  that  I  was  in  the  high  road  to 
ruin ;  and  said,  it  was  a  great  pity  that  I  wasn't 
obliged  to  live  upon  sixpence  a  day  and  earn  it." 
Harry  fell  asleep,  and  dreamed  of  seeing  Mr. 
Brown  in  a  big  wig,  passing  sentence  upon  him 
for  some  inexplicable  crime. 

The  next  day,  Harry  took  leave  of  his  mother 
and  sister,  and  accompanied  his  father  to  the  city, 
where  he  embarked  for  Providence.  Poor  Em 
meline  !  how  very  lonely  she  felt !  She  went  to 
the  garden — then  to  the  library — then  to  the  riv 
er's  side,  accompanied  by  Hotspur — but  all  would 
not  do.  And  finally,  she  went  to  her  chamber, 
and  had  a  good,  hearty  spell  of  crying.  Silly  lit 
tle  Emmeline  ! 


48  WEALTH   AND    WORTH  J    OR, 


CHAPTER  IV. 

"  Dear  above  every  boasted  attainment  acquired  to  compel  applause 
from  the  world,  are  those  dispositions,  which  cheer  the  hour  when  no 
stranger  is  present  to  admire,  and  shed  that  sweet  influence  that  link* 
the  heart  to  home." 

HELEN  MARIA  WILLIAMS. 

THE  little  village  of  Capeville  in  Massachusetts 
is  well  known  to  many,  who,  during  the  hot  sum 
mer  months,  visit  the  celebrated  promontory  of 
Nahant,  where  a  fresh  breeze  from  the  ocean  may 
almost  at  all  times  be  enjoyed.  It  is  to  a  small 
cottage  in  Capeville,  that  I  have  now  to  take  my 
readers. 

The  cottage  stands  in  a  retired  lane  that  branch 
es  from  the  main  road,  and  is  bordered  by  venera 
ble  elms,  which  indicate  that  the  avenue  once 
led  to  a  mansion  of  some  importance.  The  build 
ing  is  one  story  high,  plainly  constructed,  with  a 
simple  portico  in  front,  with  trellis-work  for  the 
honeysuckle  to  clamber  up.  A  small  yard  enclos 
ed  by  a  fence  intercepts  the  dust  of  the  road,  al 
though,  as  the  latter  is  not  a  thoroughfare,  there 
is  little  occasion  for  such  protection.  A  hill  of 
gentle  ascent  rises  just  behind  the  house,  as  if  to 
shield  it  from  the  bleak  airs  of  the  sea.  If  you 
climb  this  hill,  and  pass  through  a  grove  of  stunt 
ed  pine-trees  over  a  sandy  and  barren  soil,  you 
come  suddenly  upon  the  brow  of  another  acclivity, 
from  which  you  behold  the  broad  Atlantic  break 
ing,  flashing,  and  foaming  upon  a  smooth,  level 
beach  not  more  than  a  mile  distant. 


WHICH   MAKES    THE   MAN?  49 

This  seaside  retreat  had  been  chosen  and  em 
bellished  by  a  young  and  enterprising  mariner 
named  Clare,  who  sailed  from  the  neighboring 
ports  of  Salem  and  Boston.  Having  been  suc 
cessful  in  his  adventurous  career,  he  had  married 
the  girl  of  his  heart,  and  built  the  cottage  which 
we  have  pointed  out ;  and  there  he  passed  nearly 
all  the  time  that  was  allotted  to  him  on  shore. 
Years  flew  by,  and  new  ties  were  created  to  bind 
him  to  his  home.  Children  were  born  to  him ; 
first  a  boy,  to  whom  he  gave  his  own  name  of  Ed 
win  ;  then  a  girl,  who  was  called  after  her  mother, 
Ellen  ;  and  lastly,  another  boy,  Theodore. 

With  what  delight  would  Captain  Clare  look 
forward  to  rejoining  these  loved  ones  at  Cape- 
ville,  as,  during  the  long  night-watches  at  sea,  he 
paced  his  silent  deck !  On  his  return  from  every 
voyage,  the  children  would  climb  his  knees,  and 
anxiously  ask  "  if  this  was  not  to  be  the  last  ?  if 
he  would  not  stay  at  home  with  them  now  all  the 
time  ?" 

Vicissitudes,  however,  would  occur,  deterring 
him  from  abandoning  his  career,  and  persuading 
him  to  try  "  one  voyage  more,"  to  retrieve  the  loss 
es  of  the  last.  He  was  on  his  way  from  Canton 
with  a  rich  cargo,  the  safe  delivery  of  which  would 
have  secured  him  an  independent  fortune,  when 
his  vessel  was  wrecked,  during  a  severe  gale,  up 
on  the  Jersey  coast,  and  all  hands  on  board  per 
ished.  The  news  of  the  disaster  was  received 
at  Capeville  in  the  depth  of  one  of  the  most  in 
clement  winters  ever  experienced  upon  our  coast. 
Poor  Mrs.  Clare  was  almost  prostrated  by  the  un 
expected  blow  ;  and  the  children,  who  had,  for  the 
last  year,  been  daily  prattling  about "  Pa's  return," 
5 


50  WEALTH    AND    WORTH  ;    OR, 

and  preparing  a  series  of  pfeasant  surprises  for  his 
amusement,  experienced,  for  the  first  time,  the  bit 
terness  of  bereavement. 

But  Mrs.  Clare  was  not  a  person  to  repine  un 
reasonably  at  the  ordinations  of  the  divine  will. 
She  was  a  Christian  ;  not  merely  a  speculative,  but 
a  practical  one.  Her  faith  was  an  active  princi 
ple,  coloring  every  thought,  and  rectifying  every 
impulse.  She  devoted  herself,  with  renewed  assi 
duity,  to  the  task  of  rearing  her  children ;  and 
grateful  to  her  in  after  years  were  the  fruits  of  her 
intelligent  labors. 

The  personal  property  left  by  her  husband  was 
invested  ;  and  an  humble  annuity  was  derived  from 
it,  sufficient  to  maintain  her  family  in  comfort,  with 
out  the  necessity  of  extraordinary  efforts.  Edwin 
had  been  sent  to  an  excellent  school ;  and,  at  the 
time  of  our  visit  to  the  cottage,  he  was  consulting 
with  his  mother  and  Ellen  upon  the  adequacy  of 
their  means  to  enable  him  to  go  to  college. 

"  I  am  sure,  mother,"  said  Ellen,  "  that  we  can 
get  along  very  well  through  the  year  with  that  sum, 
and  not  touch  our  principal." 

"  But  I  had  intended,  my  dear,  that  you  should 
receive  instruction  in  music  from  Mrs.  Leroy  dur-' 
ing  the  winter."  -"**fe 

"  Oh,  I  can  content  myself  with  studying  over 
my  old  pieces.  Besides — " 

"  No,  Elien,"  interrupted  Edwin,  "  I  will  not  con 
sent  to  receive  any  advantages  of  education  at 
your  expense." 

"  But  I  am  vain  enough  to  think  that  it  will  not 
be  the  worse  for  me  to  wait  a  year  or  two,  Master 
Edwin.  I  can  study  out  many  things  by  myself, 
now  that  I  am  versed  in  the  rudiments.  Come, 


WHICH    MAKES    THE    MAN  ?  51 

mother,  I  shall  insist  upon  sending  my  piano  to  the 
auction  store,  rather  than  that  Edwin  shall  not  go 
to  college." 

"  And  you  are  willing  to  forego  the  purchase  of 
the  new  gown  and  cloak,  and  the  quarter's  school 
ing  at  Mr.  Bailey's  ?" 

"  Nay,  do  not  mention  those  things,  mother  :  I 
can  do  well  without  them;  but  Edwin  has  gone  so 
far,  that  it  is  a  pity  he  should  not  go  farther." 

"  That  is  very  bad  logic,  sister  mine.  Anxious 
as  I  may  be  to  obtain  the  advantages  of  a  collegi 
ate  course  of  instruction,  I  should  doubtless  be  able 
to  push  my  way  through  the  world  quite  as  well — 
probably  better — without  it.  There'  is  a  very  good 
chance  for  me  now  to  obtain  a  place  in  Stanwood 
&.  Staple's  store  in  Boston.  There  are  things  to 
be  learned  in  mercantile  life,  and  opportunities  for 
learning  them,  which  a  college  cannot  present." 

"  But,  Edwin  arid  mother,  do  you  not  remember 
how  often  he  used  to  talk,  as  he  held  us  children 
on  his  knees,  of  the  figure  which  he  expected  Ed 
win  would  make  one  day  at  Cambridge  1"  And 
as  Ellen  put  this  inquiry  in  a  faltering  tone,  she 
glanced  at  a  fine  portrait  of  her  father,  which  hung 
over  the  mantel-piece,  and  which  had  been  painted 
some  ten  years  before  by  an  eminent  artist  in  Am 
sterdam. 

Mrs.  Clare  could  not  readily  reply  to  this  ap 
peal  ;  but  a  glistening  moisture  in  her  eyes  told 
that  it  had  not  been  without  avail.  "  My  dear 
Ellen,"  she  at  last  said,  "  I  was  prepared  for  this 
display  of  generosity  on  your  part ;  and  I  have 
never  otherwise  intended  than  to  strain  every  nerve 
for  the  accomplishment  of  your  father's  favorite 
anticipation  in  regard  to  Edwin.  We  will  hus- 


52  WEALTH   AND    WORTH  ;    OR, 

band  our  scanty  means  with  our  best  ability,  to 
secure  the  success  of  our  experiment ;  and,  with 
trust  in  Heaven,  we  will  undertake  it.  There, 
Edwin !  The  court  has  decided.  The  verdict  is 
against  you.  It  is,  that  you  be  sent  from  this 
place  to — college." 

Edwin  seemed  to  find  something  very  attractive 
all  at  once  in  the  road ;  for  he  looked  steadfastly 
out  of  the  window  in  a  manner  to  keep  his  face 
concealed.  At  length  he  turned  round,  with  a 
bold,  frank  smile  upon  his  open  countenance,  and 
said,  "  Why  should  I  try  to  conceal  these  truant 
tears  ?  I  am  not  ashamed  of  them,  for  they  spring 
from  gratitude  and  joy.  Dear  mother  !  dear  sis 
ter  !  I  will  not  contend  against  your  generosity, 
for  I  know  you  will  make  me  yield  to  it  in  the 
end.  But,  mark  this ;  promise  me  that  you  will 
never,  for  the  mere  purpose  of  discharging  my 
college  debts,  deprive  yourselves  in  any  degree 
of  any  one  of  those  comforts  that  are  essential  to 
health.  I  will  not  consent  to  go,  till  I  am  fully 
satisfied  upon  this  point." 

After  some  affectionate  disputes,  Mrs.  Clare 
succeeded  in  convincing  Edwin  o:  the  feasibility 
of  supporting  him  at  Cambridge  without  any  dimi 
nution  of  their  household  comforts.  The  next 
day  Edwin  started  off  in  the  stage-coach,  to  un 
dergo  the  customary  examination  for  admission 
to  college  ;  and,  as  may  be  inferred  from  his  char 
acter,  he  was  successful. 

Manifold  were  the  preparations  now  at  the  cot 
tage  for  fitting  him  out  for  his  winter's  sojourn  at 
the  university.  The  making  up  of  the  dress-coat 
could  be  intrusted  only  to  Mr.  Knapp,  the  village 
tailor  ;  but  the  pantaloons,  the  vests,  the  cotton  and 


WHICH    MAKES    THE    MAN  ?  53 

linen  under-clothes  were  all  in  Ellen's  line,  and 
her  little  hand  plied  the  needle  with  an  alacrity 
that  few  veterans  in  the  seamstress's  art  could  have 
displayed.  Soon  was  everything  ready  for  Ed 
win's  departure.  With  what  care  and  nicety  were 
all  his  clothes  packed  by  Ellen  !  And  how  much 
more  did  the  trunk  hold  than  he  expected,  owing 
to  her  economical  use  of  the  room  !  Never  did 
stevedore  measure  with  nicer  care  the  hold  of  a 
vessel,  to  learn  how  large  a  cargo  it  would  con 
tain,  than  she  did  the  capacity  of  that  trunk. 

Many  were  the  promises  that  Edwin  had  to  give 
to  write,  and  to  come  home  at  least  twice  a  month, 
before  he  was  suffered  to  enter  the  stage-coach. 
Mrs.  Clare,  Ellen,  and  Theodore,  all  stood  at  the 
door  ;  and  as  the  good-natured  driver  "touched  up 
his  leader,"  they  waved  a  good-by  with  their  hands, 
and  stood  gazing  after  the  vehicle,  till,  bouncing 
up  and  down,  it  was  whirled  out  of  sight.  Two 
hours  afterward,  Edwin  had  alighted  at  his  apart 
ments  in  one  of  the  oldest  of  the  college  build 
ings — unpacked  his  trunk — arranged  his  books  up 
on  his  table — and  sat  down  to  study. 

If  we  had  looked  in  once  more  upon  Ellen,  dur 
ing  the  same  day,  we  should  have  found  her  vary 
ing  her  labors  by  instructing  her  younger  brother 
in  French.  Theodore  was  a  quick,  apt  boy;  but 
he  had  a  singular  propensity  for  moulding  bits  of 
bread  or  wax  into  figures  of  men  or  horses.  These 
he  executed  with  so  much  fidelity  and  skill,  as  to 
engage  Ellen's  attention,  who  exclaimed  one  day, 
on  seeing  him  mould  a  miniature  Napoleon  out  of 
the  wax  from  her  work-box  :  "  Why,  Theodore, 
I  really  believe  you  were  born  for  a  sculptor." 
Thenceforth,  she  endeavored  to  train  his  taste  by 

* 


54  WEALTH    AND    WORTH  ;    OR, 

judicious  criticisms,  and  to  incite  him  to  an  appro 
priate  course  of  reading  and  study.  She  also  sug 
gested  that  he  should  attempt  modelling  in  clay, 
and  he  produced  some  very  clever  specimens  of 
his  talent  in  that  art. 

Indeed,  what  with  attending  to  Edwin's  clothes, 
and  to  Theodore's  instruction ;  conducting  the 
household  arrangements,  and  interesting  herself  in 
those  village  charities,  where  her  counsel  and  as 
sistance  could  be  of  avail ;  practising  with  the 
church  choir,  and  aiding  in  the  superintendence 
of  a  Sunday-school,  you  would  suppose  that  Ellen 
had  precious  little  time  to  devote  to  those  accom 
plishments,  in  which  young  ladies  are  generally 
anxious  to  excel.  Do  not  suppose,  however,  that 
she  neglected  them  utterly.  There  were  other 
things  which  claimed  her  attention  first,  as  of  par 
amount  importance.  But  still,  notwithstanding  her 
numerous  employments,  she  found  time  for  the  in 
dulgence  of  a  taste  for  elegant  literature,  for  music, 
and  the  fine  arts.  So  true  it  is,  that  the  more  we 
do,  the  more  we  can  do ;  and  the  more  busy  we 
are,  the  more  leisure  we  have.  There  is  no  class 
of  persons  more  pressed  for  time  in  accomplishing 
comparatively  trifling  objects  than  your  habitual 
idlers. 

"  How  can  you  find  time  for  such  things  ?"  ask 
ed  Miss  Celestina  Johnson  of  our  friend  Ellen,  on 
seeing  her  engaged  in  knotting  a  bead  purse  for  a 
fair,  that  the  ladies  were  getting  up  for  the  benefit 
of  the  village  Lyceum. 

"  I  will  tell  you,"  said  Ellen.  "  You  see  how 
that  quilt  is  made  up  of  rags,  which  many  people 
would  have  thrown  away  as  utterly  useless  ? 
Sewed  together,  they  make  quite  an  imposing  ap- 


WHICH    MAKES    THE    MAN  ?  55 

pearance.  Just  so  1  manage  with  my  odds  and 
ends,  and  shreds  and  patches  of  time.  How 
many  little  intervals  do  we  waste,  which  seem 
nothing  in  themselves,  but  which,  if  patched  to 
gether,  form  an  imposing  aggregate  !" 

"  What  a  very  odd  person !"  thought  Miss  Ce- 
lestina. 

Ah,  Ellen  !  there  is  more  wisdom  than  you  ever 
imagined  in  your  remark.  It  contains  the  secret 
of  all  great  achievements.  We  that  complain  so 
much  of  the  shortness  of  life,  scatter  its  golden  mo 
ments  as  the  spendthrift  does  his  copper  coin.  If 
we  will  reckon  up  those  "  odds  and  ends  of  time," 
which  we  are  apt  to  regard  as  so  unimportant  and 
unavailable,  we  shall  find  that  they  form  a  fright 
ful  proportion  of  our  little  span  of  existence. 

Pliny  says :  If  you  compute  the  time  spent  in 
sleep,  you  will  find  that  a  man  actually  lives  only 
half  his  space.  The  other  half  passes  in  a  state 
resembling  death.  You  do  not  take  into  the  ac 
count  the  years  of  infancy,  which  are  destitute  of 
reason  ;  nor  the  many  diseases  and  the  many  cares 
of  old  age,  those  penalties  of  longevity.  The 
senses  grow  dull,  the  limbs  are  racked,  the  sight, 
the  hearing,  the  power  of  walking,  the  teeth  also, 
die  before  us.  And  yet  all  this  time  is  reckoned 
in  the  period  of  a  life  ! 

''  Was  Ellen  Clare  pretty  ?"  asks  a  blue-eyed 
maiden  behind  my  chair,  who,  with  my  permission, 
has  been  reading  my  manuscript. 

"Yes,  Mary  dear;  the  good  are  always  pretty. 
Goodness  of  heart  and  purity  of  soul  must  stamp 
their  impress  upon  the  outward  expression,  how 
ever  homely  may  be  the  features.  But  Ellen  was 
rich  also,  like  you,  in  that  inferior  loveliness, 


56  WEALTH    AND    WORTH  ;    OR, 

which  the  limner  delights  to  imitate.  Her  figure 
was  naturally  slender  ;  but  habits  of  exercise  in 
the  open  air,  and  a  rigid  obedience  to  the  laws  of 
health,  had  developed  it  to  those  proportions  in 
which  beauty  is  circumscribed  ;  and  there  was 
that  ease  and  elasticity  in  her  gait,  of  which  grace, 
the  rustic  charmer,  is  born.  Her  plentiful  dark 
hair  was  plainly  parted  in  front  in  undulating  lines, 
and  fastened  behind  with  a  comb.  Her  face 
would  remind  you  of  the  majestic  simplicity  of 
those  features  which  the  Grecian  sculptors  have 
traced,  where  all  is  in  harmonious  repose  ;  but 
Ellen's  dark  eyes  were  the  very  throne  of  expres 
sion.  They  mirrored  every  feeling  that  flitted 
through  her  heart ;  and  she  had  no  cause  to  blush 
at  the  betrayal,  for  there  was  an  earnestness, 
a  frankness  in  her  temper,  which  did  not  covet 
disguise.  When  she  smiled,  the  least  possible 
portion  of  a  sound,  white  set  of  teeth  was  display 
ed  ;  and  her  little  hands,  notwithstanding  the  deal 
of  work  they  accomplished,  were  as  fair  and  taper 
as  a  queen's." 

"  Why,  what  a  very  perfect  person  you  are 
making  her  out !" 

"  Do  you  know  how  she  unconsciously  aided 
nature  in  investing  her  person  with  these  perish 
able  but  not  undesirable  attributes  ?  I  will  tell 
you.  She  rose  early,  and  freely  laved  every  part 
of  her  skin  with  cold  water,  to  fortify  her  frame 
against  the  trying  changes  of  the  rigorous  climate 
of  New  England.  In  this  way  she  escaped  those 
maladies  which  fritter  away  the  charms  of  so 
many ;  and  then  she  could  expose  herself  with 
impunity  to  the  fresh  air,  and  take  proper  exercise 
at  all  seasons.  The  consequence  was,  that  while 


WHICH   MAKES   THE   MAN. 


57 


other  young  ladies  of  the  village  were  fretting 
over  their  influenzas  and  sore  throats,  and  shiver 
ing  around  the  hearth,  Ellen  could  walk  out  on  the 
ice  to  see  the  great  snow  statue  that  Theodore 
had  been  erecting ;  and,  if  he  attempted  any  of 
his  fun  by  throwing  the  snow  in  her  face,  she 
could  pay  him  back  with  interest  in  the  same  cold 
coin,  until  her  whole  frame  glowed  with  a  health 
ful  warmth." 

"  It  strikes  me  that  Miss  Ellen  must  have  been 
something  of  a  romp." 

"  There,  Mary  ;  you  have  talked  enough.  Light 
the  candles ;  give  me  a  fresh  pen,  and  let  me  be 
gin  my  next  chapter." 


58  WEALTH   AND   WORTH  ;   OR, 


CHAPTER  V. 

"  Seest  thon  my  home  ?    Tis  where  yon  woods  are  waving:, 

In  their  green  richness  to  the  summer  air  ; 
Where  yon  blue  streams,  a  thousand  flower-banks  laving, 

Lead  down  the  hill  a  vein  of  light — 'tis  there  !" 

MBS.  HEMANS. 

MR.  Wainbridge's  prediction  in  regard  to  Har 
ry  Maverick  was  correct.  He  could  not  learn  to 
say  no.  He  had  not  acquired  that  moral  firmness 
of  character,  which  presents  a  bulwark  to  the  al 
lurements  of  frivolity  and  dissipation.  That  fatal 
monosyllable  "  yes"  was  too  often  upon  his  lips, 
when  pleasure  and  society  were  the  seducers. 

His  ambition  was  also  a  little  too  much  mingled 
with  vanity.  He  was  ambitious  to  sport  as  hand 
some  a  span  of  horses  as  Ermine,  and  to  appear 
as  well  at  recitations  as  Clare  ;  to  be  as  indepen 
dent  in  regard  to  the  restrictions  of  college  as 
Hardworth,  and  yet  to  maintain  an  honorable  rank 
in  his  class.  It  was  hardly  possible  to  reconcile 
these  conflicting  aims ;  and  yet  Harry  was,  to  a 
certain  extent,  successful.  Ermine  and  Hard- 
worth  were  dunces,  and  none  of  the  admiration, 
which  their  horses  and  phaetons  excited,  was  re 
flected  upon  themselves.  Harry  learned  his  les 
sons,  but  also  "  made  a  dash"  with  his  horses. 

To  accomplish  this,  he  was  obliged  to  break  in 
upon  the  hours  which  should  have  been  devoted 
to  sleep ;  and  his  health  suffered  for  a  time  in 
consequence. 


WHICH   MAKES    THE   MAN  ?  59 

Two  years  had  passed  by,  at  Cambridge,  when 
the  following  conversation  might  have  been  heard 
among  some  of  the  students  of  his  class  (he  was 
now  a  junior),  as  they  swung  upon  one  of  the  iron 
chains  that  enclosed  the  college  green. 

"  Well,  who  will  be  first  this  term,  Belknap  ?" 

"  Oh,  Clare,  of  course.  There  is  no  such  thing 
as  beating  him  in  Greek  and  mathematics,  although 
Maverick  has  the  highest  mark  for  themes." 

"  If  Maverick  would  turn  to  and  study,  he  might 
easily  be  first." 

"  It  has  always  been  a  marvel  to  me  how  that 
fellow  finds  time  to  look  at  his  lessons  at  all.  He 
is  always  on  hand  at  the  clubs,  is  first  among  the 
Porcellians  and  Knights,  and  plays  second  fiddle 
to  no  one  at  the  Pierian.  When  he  is  not  on  horse 
back  he  is  with  his  fencing-master.  He  goes  into 
town  almost  every  other  night  to  parties  ;  and 
when  you  drop  in  at  his  room,  you  generally  find 
him  surrounded  by  company." 

"  Yes ;  Maverick  is  generally  admitted  to  be 
the  best  fellow  in  his  class." 

"  How  different  from  Ermine  and  Hardworth  ! 
Are  not  they  nice  boys  ?" 

"  That  reminds  me  that  I  once  heard  Hardworth 
call  Maverick  a  coward,  behind  his  back.  I  be 
lieved  him  for  a  while — Maverick  is  so  apt  to  turn 
upon  his  heels,  and  walk  away,  when  any  one  is 
rude — but  I  saw  a  little  occurrence  the  other  day, 
which  made  me  change  my  opinion.  A  poor  crip 
ple  was  playing  a  hand-organ  beneath  Hardworth's 
window,  when  Hardwortb  rushed  out,  and  began 
abusing  him,  and  finally  threw  down  the  organ 
and  broke  it.  Maverick  came  up,  helped  the  poor 
fellow  to  collect  the  fragments,  and  then,  asking 


60  WEALTH   AND    WORTH  ;    OR, 

what  it  would  cost  to  repair  it,  gave  the  astonish 
ed  music-grinder  ten  dollars.  A  crowd  of  students 
had  by  this  time  collected  round  the  spot.  The 
cripple,  as  he  moved  away,  cried  out  to  Harry, 
'  Long  life  to  your  honor,  and  better  manners  to 
that  big  blackguard !'  With  a  face  livid  with 
passion,  Hardworth  sprang  forward  to  strike  him  ; 
but  Maverick  interposed,  and,  without  much  ap 
parent  effort,  threw  Hardworth  off." 

"  And  what  did  Hardworth  do  ?" 

"  We  were  disappointed  in  him.  He  had  al 
ways  been  considered  the  bully  of  the  class.  He 
simply  raised  his  fist,  and  told  Harry  to  hold  him 
his  debtor  for  this  and  other  favors." 

"  Very  shabby  that  in  Hardworth  !  Have  you 
heard  whether  Ermine  is  to  be  expelled  ?" 

"  He  has  so  often  been  threatened  with  expul 
sion  that  he  has  become  quite  indifferent  upon  the 
subject.  His  last  offence  was,  bringing  a  bottle  of 
champagne  into  dinner  at  Commons,  and  then 
popping  off  the  cork  into  the  tutor's  face." 

"  There  is  the  bell  for  recitation !"  The  con 
versation  ceased,  and  the  two  students  passed  on 
to  the  chapel. 

Harry  soon  found  that  learning  was  a  jealous 
mistress,  who  claimed  undivided  homage.  The 
flatteries  and  attentions  of  his  city  acquaintances 
withdrew  him  more  and  more  from  his  studies. 
The  reputation  of  his  wealth  threw  many  unpro 
fitable  associates  in  his  way,  who  filched  from  him 
his  time,  and  often  borrowed  his  money.  He  lost 
rank  in  his  class,  and,  what  was  worse,  he  lost  his 
spirits,  and  was  troubled  with  severe  headaches. 
There  is  one  odious  practice  which  he  did  not 
contract,  but  perhaps  he  owed  his  freedom  from 


WHICH    MAKES   THE    MAN  ?  6l 

it  more  to  constitutional  aversion  than  to  the  ab 
sence  of  those  influences  which  are  favorable  to 
the  acquirement  of  the  habit.  I  allude  to  the  vice 
of  using  intoxicating  drinks  ;  and  I  must  confess 
that  I  have  yet  great  hopes  of  seeing  him  make 
something,  so  long  as  this  stigma  cannot  be  attach 
ed  to  his  name. 

It  often  happens  in  college,  as  well  as  in  active 
life,  that  two  persons  of  congenial  temper  and  pur 
suits,  with  every  facility  for  becoming  familiarly 
acquainted,  meet  and  pass  each  other  daily  for 
years,  without  any  other  intercourse  than  that  of 
cold  civility.  So  it  had  been  with  Edwin  Clare 
and  Henry  Maverick.  Edwin,  while  he  could  not 
but  admire  the  talents  and  acquisitions  of  his  class 
mate,  believed  him  to  be  devoted  to  gayeties,  which 
he  himself  had  neither  the  means  nor  the  inclina 
tion  to  enjoy.  He  accordingly  kept  aloof  from 
his  society ;  and  Harry,  accustomed  to  have  his 
acquaintance  sought,  attributed  this  shyness  to  a 
sense  of  rivalry  or  to  dislike. 

On  the  evening  at  which  we  have  now  arrived, 
Harry  was  promenading  in  one  of  the  shady  walks 
that  skirt  the  college  grounds,  when  he  came  up 
with  Edwin,  who  seemed  to  be  sauntering  like 
himself  for  recreation.  As  classmates,  they  could 
not  well  avoid  bidding  each  other  good  evening. 
Clare  was  passing  on,  when  Harry  remarked : — 
"  How  happens  it,  Clare,  that  though  you  have 
the  reputation  of  being  the  hardest  student  in 
Cambridge,  you  manage  to  look  always  so  ruddy 
and  healthful  ?" 

"  Why,  Maverick,  it  must  be  partly  owing  to 
the  fact  that  I  brought  with  me  to  college  a  bounti 
ful  stock  of  health,  and  partly  because  I  never 
6 


62  WEALTH    AND    WORTH  J    OB, 

overwork  my  brain,  if  ever  so  anxious  to  master  a 
lesson.  Besides,  I  pass  my  Saturdays,  and  some 
times  my  Sundays,  at  Capeville,  and  there  I  have 
an  ample  opportunity  to  recruit.  The  fresh  sea- 
air  soon  reinvigorates  me." 

"  I  find  I  cannot  study  long,"  said  Harry,  "  with 
out  feeling  a  dizziness,  which  unfits  me  for  strenu 
ous  reflection." 

"  Why  not  rusticate  for  a  week  or  two,  and 
then  come  back  to  your  books  like  a  giant  re 
freshed  ?" 

"  If  I  could  find  a  place  where  I  should  not 
perish  from  ennui,  and  yet  escape  society,  I  think 
I  would  try  that  plan.  Would  you  recommend 
Capeville  ?" 

"  I  fear  it  would  not  suit  you  at  all,  unless  you 
can  content  yourself  with  snipe-shooting  and  fish 
ing.  It  is,  moreover,  so  near  to  Nahant,  that  you 
would  be  constantly  tempted  to  rejoin  the  society 
you  wish  to  avoid.  I  would  recommend  some  in 
terior  town  in  preference." 

"  I  must  be  near  the  sea.  Come,  Clare,  you 
shall  let  me  drive  you  down  to  Capeville  next 
Saturday.  Don't  say  '  No,'  for  I  am  really  solici 
tous  to  find  some  place  where  to  pass  the  brief 
summer  vacation." 

"  Very  well,"  said  Edwin,  laughing  ;  "  I  will 
endeavor  td*rnake  your  visit  agreeable.  You  know 
Capeville  has  been  of  late  years  a  favorite  haunt 
of  the  sea-serpent.  If  we  could  only  engage  his 
scaly  majesty  for  '  this  occasion  only — positively 
his  last  appearance' — as  the  play-bills  say,  you 
would  have  at  least  something  to  boast  of  during 
your  stay." 

"  Undoubtedly  his  performances  would  be  re- 


WHICH    MAKES    THE    MAN  ?  63 

ceived  with  immense  applause.  Well,  Clare,  I 
will  call  for  you  early  on  Saturday.  Good  night !" 

"  Good  night !" 

Soon  after  prayers  on  the  day  appointed,  Har 
ry's  phaeton  was  driven  up  to  the  college  gate, 
and  he  and  Edwin,  arm  in  arm,  proceeded  toward 
it  along  the  avenue.  Numberless  were  the  sur 
mises  among  the  students  at  this  unprecedented 
spectacle.  Maverick  had  hitherto  been  the  ac 
knowledged  standard  of  ton,  not  only  among  his 
classmates,  but  among  all  the  youthful  members 
of  the  university.  Happy  was  the  freshman 
whom  he  would  honor  with  his  notice  !  Nor  did 
the  senior  scorn  to  seek  an  introduction  to  his 
handsomely  furnished  rooms. 

Clare  had  always  been  considered  as  hopeless 
ly  out  of  fashion.  The  embryo  Brummels  of  his 
class  would  profess  to  be  seriously  afflicted  by  the 
antediluvian  cut  of  his  coat.  Drawing  upon  Mr. 
Joseph  Miller  for  an  indifferent  joke,  they  would 
remark,  that  his  hat  must  be  terribly  sleepy,  inas 
much  as  it  had  not  had  a  nap  for  three  years. 
Aware  of  the  feelings  excited  by  his  plain  though 
cleanly  appearance,  Clare  was  careful  in  choosing 
for  his  associates  such  only  as  did  not  regard  the 
paltry  distinctions  of  dress  ;  and  these,  I  am  sorry 
to  say,  did  not  constitute  a  large  proportion  of  his 
class. 

You  may  judge  of  the  surprise  among  the  knot 
of  students  who  had  now  collected  around  the 
gate,  on  seeing  Clare  and  Maverick  enter  the 
phaeton  and  drive  off.  Ermine  openly  declared 
that  "  he  should  cut  Maverick  after  this  ;"  and 
Hardworth  intimated  that  Harry  had  always  a 
taste  for  low  company.  By  some  silly  youths 


64  WEALTH   AND   WORTH  ;   OR, 

these  remarks  were  received  with  satisfaction  ;  by 
others,  with  smiles  of  silent  derision. 

It  was  a  warm,  delightful  day  in  June,  when  the 
two  new  friends  set  out  upon  their  excursion  to 
Capeville. 

"  The  lanes  were  full  of  roses, 

The  fields  were  grassy  deep, 
The  leafiness  and  floweriness 
Made  one  abundant  heap." 

Edwin  was  in  high  spirits  ;  and  he  imparted  his 
stores  of  amusing  and  curious  information,  some 
gathered  from  books  and  some  from  experience, 
with  a  lavish  profusion. 

"  Why  have  we  not  known  each  other  long 
since  ?"  said  Henry. 

"  I  saw  you  surrounded  by  acquaintances,"  re 
plied  Edwin ;  "  and  I  knew  that  they  wasted 
enough  of  your  time." 

"  And  I  thought  that  you,  Clare,  must  be  a  very 
unsocial  and  austere  sort  of  fellow,  who  would 
rather  dig  at  a  Greek  root  than  smell  the  hedge 
row  roses." 

"  How  much  mistaken  yon  were  !  I  have  never 
enjoyed  anything  more  than  this  bright  summer 
morning.  What  a  dashing  team  you  drive,  Maver 
ick  !  Your  horses  move  as  if  guided  by  one  will." 

"  Ah !  you  must  let  me  take  you  to  Eagles- 
wood,  if  you  wish  to  see  horses.  You  should  see 
my  fast-trotting  bay,  and  the  beautiful  Arabian  that 
my  sister  Emmeline  rides.  You  should  see  Em- 
meline,  too." 

"  Then  you  have  a  sister  ?" 

"  Thank  Heaven,  yes  ! 


WHICH    MAKES    THE    MAN  1  65 

*  A  spirit  she !  and  Joy  her  name  ! 

She  walks  upon  the  air ; 
Grace  swims  throughout  her  fragile  frame, 
And  glistens  like  a  lambent  flame 
Amid  her  golden  hair.' " 

"  This  rosy  morning  has  made  you  poetical, 
Maverick.  How  we  skim  over  the  ground !  I 
can  see  the  steeple  of  our  village  church  already." 

"  Yes  ;  there  is  Capeville.  I  smell  the  briny 
air  from  the  Atlantic.  It  has  revived  me  already. 
My  headache  is  gone." 

"  You  are  an  enthusiast,  Maverick." 

"  And  you  ?" 

"  I  am,  perhaps,  somewhat  prosaic  and  practical 
in  my  temper.  The  bed  of  circumstances  is  like 
that  of  Procrustes  ;  if  we  are  too  long,  we  have  to 
be  docked  to  conform  to  it ;  and  if  we  are  too  short, 
we  are  stretched  out.  Happily,  I  just  fitted  the 
bed  in  which  I  found  myself." 

"  And  so  you  have  neither  suffered  amputation 
nor  elongation  ?" 

"  I  have  never  had  cause  to  find  fault  with  my 
lot." 

"  Well ;  you  might  justly  charge  me  with  in 
gratitude  to  Heaven  if  I — but  tell  me,  tell  me, 
Clare,  who  is  that  beautiful  girl  crossing  the  road 
with  a  basket  of  strawberries  ?  A  lad  is  by  her 
side.  You  look  the  wrong  way.  She  sees  us. 
She  bows.  Who  is  she  ?" 

"  A  young  lady  with  whom  I  am  quite  inti 
mately  acquainted." 

"  Ho  !  a  sweetheart!    You  shall  introduce  me, 
nevertheless.     What  a  face  !     And  with  what  a 
careless    grace   that  plaid  scarf  falls  about  her 
shoulders  !     Now,  Clare,  do  your  duty. 
6* 


66  WEALTH    AND    WORTH  ;    OR, 

'  She  glideth  on  a  sunny  gleam, 
In  youth  and  innocence  so  bright ; 
She  lendeth  lustre  to  day-light, 
And  life  to  solitude.'  " 

Harry  drew  up  his  horses  near  the  side  of  the 
road,  where  the  rural  beauty  was  passing,  and  Ed 
win  simply  said:  "  Sister  Ellen,  this  is  my  class 
mate  and  friend,  Mr.  Maverick.  Make  him  wel 
come  to  Capeville." 

"  He  is  most  welcome,  Edwin,  being  your  friend. 
I  am  sure  that  mother  will  say  the  same." 

Harry  felt  a  little  relieved,  he  knew  not  why,  on 
learning  the  true  relation  in  which  Clare  stood  to 
Ellen.  He  dismounted  from  his  phaeton,  giving 
the  reins  to  Edwin  ;  and  it  was  arranged  that  the 
latter  should  ride  round  to  the  tavern  to  bait  the 
horses,  while  Maverick  accompanied  Ellen  to  the 
cottage.  Theodore  stood  wistfully  gazing  at  the 
noble-looking  span,  when,  at  Harry's  invitation,  he 
entered  the  carriage  with  Edwin,  and  was  rolled 
away  in  fine  style  toward  the  tavern  stable. 

"  What's  to  pay  now  ?"  said  Miss  Snim,  as  she 
watched  these  proceedings  from  the  window  of  a 
little  "  variety-shop,"  where  she  dealt  in  buttons, 
tape,  and  calicoes  by  the  retail,  and  in  scandal  by 
the  wholesale.  "  If  there  isn't  Ned  Clare  with  a 
stylish  young  colleger  stopping  in  a  harouche  with 
two  horses,  to  speak  to  his  sister  Nell !  And  now 
the  colleger  jumps  out,  and  takes  her  basket  of 
strawberries  and  carries  it ;  and  Theodore  and 
Ned  drive  off;  and  Nell  walks  away  with  her  new 
beau,  as  unconcerned  as  if  she  had  twenty  just 
like  him  at  her  feet  every  day.  Here's  pretty  go 
ings-on  for  Capeville !" 

And  Miss  Snim  went  from  the  window  to  the 


WHICH    MAKES    THE    MAN?  67 

door  to  watch  every  motion  of  the  couple,  till  an 
angle  in  the  road  took  them  from  her  scandalized 
sight.  She  then  locked  up  her  shop,  thereby  losing 
three  or  four  good  customers,  and  hurried  off  to 
communicate  the  astounding  intelligence  to  those 
who  she  thought  would  take  the  most  intense  in 
terest  in  the  recital. 

Ellen,  though  plainly  clad  in  a  coarse  calico 
gown,  felt  no  false  mortification  or  regret,  because 
she  had  not  been  found  in  a  better  dress.  There 
was  that  indescribable  grace  about  her  attire,  hum 
ble  as  it  was,  which  seems  to  be  the  result  of 
innate  taste,  and  not  of  education.  She  had  no 
fashionable  mantuamaker  to  thank  for  it ;  for  she 
cut  and  made  up  all  her  own  and  her  mother's 
clothes  herself:  but  there  it  was,  obvious  to  all 
eyes  that  could  apprehend  the  beautiful !  The 
charm  was  simplicity — a  conformity  to  nature — a 
sympathy  with  that  beauty  which  clothes  the  lily 
and  droops  in  the  willow's  curve. 

"  How  delicious  is  the  perfume  of  these  straw 
berries  !"  said  Henry  Maverick,  holding  up  the 
basket  which  Ellen  had  almost  filled. 

"  They  are  wild  ones,"  replied  Ellen.  "  They 
have  more  flavor  than  those  that  are  cultivated  in 
gardens,  though  somewhat  smaller  in  size." 

"  Does  time  never  hang  heavy  on  your  hands, 
Miss  Clare,  in  this  secluded  little  place  ?" 

"  Quite  the  contrary!  I  often  wish  the  day  were 
twice  as  long.  And  what  is  very  odd,  the  more  I 
do,  and  the  more  I  read,  and  study, — the  more  I 
find  to  do,  read  and,  study.  A  very  hopeless  case, 
is  it  not,  Mr.  Maverick  ?" 

"  Not  when  we  recollect  that  we  have  an  im 
mortality  for  the  exercise  of  our  faculties." 


68  WEALTH    AND    WORTH  ;   OR, 

"  Ah,  sir,  that  is  quite  true.  I  was  not  alto 
gether  serious  in  my  question." 

"  And  who  would  be  serious  such  a  day  as  this, 
Miss  Clare  ;  when,  as  Bryant  says,  '  our  Mother 
Nature  is  laughing  around  ?'  The  blue  bird  that 
is  just  alighting  on  that  old  apple-tree  will  sing  a 
different  song." 

"  You  are  an  admirer  of  nature,  sir  ?" 

"  Yes,  and  it  is  therefore  that  I  have  come  to 
Capeville." 

The  bloom  upon  Ellen's  cheek  was  slightly 
heightened  as  she  replied  :  "  You  will  see  it  here 
in  its  most  rugged  and  majestic  forms.  The  soli 
tary  beach ;  the  foam-beaten  crag,  where  the  sea- 
birds  scream  and  wheel ;  the  stunted  pine-tree  in 
the  midst  of  barrenness  ;  the  distant  sail ;  the 
roar  of  breakers  ;  these  are  the  sights  and  sounds 
which  you  may  enjoy  upon  our  coast.  I  have  for 
gotten  one  thing  more,"  added  Ellen,  fearing  that 
she  had  been  a  little  too  poetical — "  the  sea  ser 
pent  !" 

"  And  you  charge  me  with  admiration  for  na 
ture,  Miss  Clare  !  Why,  you  are  yourself  not  only 
an  admirer,  but  a  rhapsodist." 

"  Not  so  bad  as  that !  I  only  go  so  far  as  to  es 
cape  meriting  the  description  which  Wordsworth 
gives  of  Peter  Bell." 

"  And  what  is  that  ?" 

" '  In  vain,  through  every  changeful  year, 

Did  nature  lead  him  as  before; 
A  primrose  by  the  river's  brim 
A  yellow  primrose  was  to  him, 

And  it  was  nothing  more.' 

"  Yes,  Mr.  Maverick,  I  am  just  enough  of  the 


WHICH    MAKES    THE    MAN  *  69 

rhapsodist  to  see  something  more  in  a  primrose 
than  a  mere  vegetable,  and  something  more  in  a 
strawberry  than  a  mere  eatable.  Consider  what 
gainers  we  are  by  this  faculty  of  increasing  the 
value  of  things  by  discovering  in  them  properties 
and  charms  which  many  do  not  estimate  !" 

"  Is  there  an  institution  in  Capeville  for  teach 
ing  young  ladies  philosophy,  poetry,  and  all  that 
sort  of  thing?"  asked  Harry,  in  a  tone  of  raillery. 

"  Yes,"  replied  Ellen,  smiling  ;  arid  then,  with 
a  more  serious  manner,  she  added,  "  and  God  is 
its  principal !" 

Edwin's  voice  was  heard  calling  to  them  ;  and 
Ellen  suddenly  found  that  they  had  passed  some 
rods  beyond  the  cottage  gate.  She  apologized  in 
genuously  for  the  inadvertence  ;  and  leading  the 
way  into  the  house,  introduced  "  Edwin's  friend, 
Mr.  Maverick,"  to  her  mother. 

Few  are  the  cottages  in  New  England,  which 
cannot  boast  of  their  "  best  chamber,"  kept  sacred 
for  the  casual  guest  or  the  married  son,  who  comes 
home  to  "  thanksgiving."  Harry  was  shown  to 
that  one,  which  bore  this  distinction  at  the  Clare 
cottage,  with  a  readiness  that  assured  him  he  had 
"  put  nobody  out"  by  his  coming.  How  pure, 
and  white,  and  clean  everything  appeared  in  it ! 
How  like  newly-drifted  snow,  the  coverlet  and  the 
pillows !  And  then  the  simple  little  wash-stand, 
with  its  liberal  supply  of  towels,  and  the  little 
glass  in  the  rose-wood  frame  hanging  over  it! 
And,  in  the  middle  of  the  room,  the  old-fashioned 
round  table,  with  a  leaf,  that  shut  down  perpen 
dicularly  !  But  now  it  was  covered  with  a  plain 
white  cloth,  and  there  was  a  single  volume  in  the 


70  WEALTH   AND    WORTH  J   OR, 

centre,  handsomely  bound  and  gilt.  It  was  the 
Book  of  books. 

Many  a  well-meaning  housewife,  on  receiving 
an  unexpected  guest,  whom  she  believes  to  be  ac 
customed  to  accommodations  far  superior  to  any 
thing  she  can  afford,  will  begin  by  offering  excu 
ses,  and  expressions  of  regret,  that  she  cannot 
give  him  this  luxury  and  that;  she  will  bid  him 
welcome  to  the  best  she  has,  but  "  she  wishes  for 
his  sake  it  was  better."  All  this  is  very  super 
fluous,  and  in  very  bad  taste.  Far  different  was 
Mrs.  Clare's  mode  of  welcoming  her  son's  friend. 

The  breakfast  bell  rang,  and  Harry,  on  entering 
the  room,  found  a  table  spread  with  a  plain,  but 
substantial  meal.  The  incomparable  strawberries 
were  not  forgotten.  Harry  did  extreme  justice  to 
them  in  particular.  He  amused  his  new  friends 
with  lively  anecdotes  of  college  life  and  of  scenes 
at  "  commons  ;"  described  the  suspicious-looking 
soups,  the  adamantine  puddings,  and  the  venerable 
chickens,  which  the  students  sometimes  had  to  en 
counter  at  meals  ;  and  narrated  some  of  those  old 
traditional  practical  jokes,  handed  down  from  class 
to  class,  which  freshmen  are  wont  to  burn  to  emu 
late.  Theodore  thought  he  should  choke  with 
laughter. 

How  quickly  the  day  seemed  to  glide  by  to  all ! 
Ellen  sang  over  her  best  songs,  and  then  Harry 
read  aloud  from  the  "  Lady  of  the  Lake,"  which  was 
a  new-year's  present  to  her  from  Theodore.  Soon 
after  dinner,  they  strolled  down  to  the  beach.  Ma 
ny  a  gay  carriage  passed  them  by,  and  many  a 
fair  lady  would  bow  to  Harry,  and  then  look  back 
and  wonder  "  who  couU  be  the  persons  Maverick 
was  walking  with."  Had  Ellen  been  a  little  more 


WHICH    MAKES    THE   MAN?  71 

observant,  she  might  have  seen  that  she  was  sub 
jected  to  many  a  rude  stare,  and  many  an  illiberal 
remark.  But  she  had  none  of  that  shyness  which 
springs  from  vanity.  She  was  not  self-conceited 
enough  to  be  diffident. 

As  our  party  were  returning  home  along  the 
beach,  they  encountered  a  gay  vehicle,  containing 
two  young  men,  who  were  driving  their  horses  at 
a  furious  speed  along  the  beach.  As  they  drew 
nigh,  they  slackened  their  pace  a  moment,  and 
then,  observing  Maverick  and  his  friends,  turned 
and  drove  so  near  to  them,  as  to  scatter  the  sand 
over  their  feet,  and  oblige  them  to  move  from  their 
track.  The  youths,  who  succeeded  in  performing 
this  exquisite  and  gentlemanly  feat,  were  Messrs. 
Ermine  and  Hardworth.  A  coarse  laugh  was 
heard  from  them  as  they  drove  away,  congratulat 
ing  themselves  upon  the  impromptu  felicity  and 
delectable  cleverness  of  their  joke. 

"  I  might  have  upset  their  vehicle,  Maverick," 
said  Edwin,  "  if  I  had  chosen  to  endanger  the  little 
brains  they  have." 

"  How  so  ?"  asked  Harry,  who  could  not  but 
admire  the  coolness  of  his  companion,  while  he 
himself  was  chafing  with  indignation  at  the  imper 
tinence  of  the  light-headed  rakes. 

"  By  resting  this  stout  stick  upon  a  stone  in  this 
manner,  and  placing  it  in  the  way  of  the  left 
wheels,"  said  Edwin. 

"  The  punishment  would  not  have  been  too  se 
vere  for  them." 

"  I  fear  they  have  been  indulging  in  wine,"  said 
Mrs.  Clare  ;  "for  their  faces  seemed  flushed.  Ah, 
wine,  sir,  is  the  introductory  step  to  all  misdo 
ings." 


72  WEALTH    AND    WORTH  ;    OR, 

With  what  a  look  of  virtuous  wonder  and  re 
signed  amazement  did  Miss  Snim,  the  next  morn 
ing,  which  was  Sunday,  see  Henry  Maverick  ac 
company  Ellen  to  church  ! 

"  Well,  if  something  doesn't  come  of  this,  some 
thing  ought  to,  that  I  will  say ;"  whispered  the 
amiable  spinster  to  her  neighbor. 

Harry  took  leave  of  the  Clares  that  evening, 
and  returned  to  his  studies  at  Cambridge,  much 
gratified  and  impressed  by  what  he  had  seen  of 
refinement  of  manners  and  intellectual  cultivation 
in  an  humble  walk  of  New  England  rural  life. 
Often  as  his  thoughts  recurred  to  Ellen,  and  her 
"  household  motions,  light  and  free,"  and  the  little 
cottage  kept  in  order  by  her  care,  he  would  return 
to  it  in  memory,  and  exclaim  : 

"  The  spirit  of  contentment,  maiden  dear, 
Is  breathing  in  thy  very  atmosphere ; 
I  feel  it  sway  me  while  I  linger  here. 
The  sense  of  neatness,  felt  in  everything, 
Speaks  with  a  mother's  voice,  and  bids  thee  spread 
The  little  table  with  its  covering, 
The  floor  with  clean  sand  crackling  to  the  tread. 
Everywhere  round  the  hand  beloved  I  trace, 
That  makes  a  paradise  of  any  place." 


WHICH   MAKES   THE   MAN  ?  73 


CHAPTER  VI. 

"  But  now  the  day's  for  ever  gone 
.  When  thou  wert  like  a  bird  ; 

And  singing  in  so  soft  a  tone 
As  I  never  since  have  heard."— T.  K.  HERVEY. 

"  WHAT  inseparable  cronies  Clare  and  Maver 
ick  have  become  all  at  once  !"  said  Belknap  to  his 
friend  Jones. 

"  Yes.  Harry  never  asks  us  to  ride  to  Fresh 
Pond  with  him  at  sundown,  as  he  used  to.  No 
one  will  content  him  as  a  companion  but  Clare." 

"  Did  you  ever  see  a  fellow  look  so  seedy  as 
Clare  does  in  that  rusty  coat  and  hat  ?  I  wonder 
that  Harry  doesn't  give  him  some  of  his  cast-oft* 
clothes." 

"  It  is  very  eccentric  in  Harry  to  attach  himself 
to  such  a  fellow.  He  ought  to  lose  caste  by  it ; 
but  instead  of  that,  he  is  more  thought  of  than 
ever  by  the  class." 

"  That  is  because  he  has  made  himself  so  ex 
clusive  of  late.  And  then  he  has  so  much  money 
to  spend ;  and  he  has  such  an  off-hand  way  of  do 
ing  things !" 

"  Hardworth  and  his  clan  are  more  exasperated 
against  him  than  ever.  So  long  as  he  was  a  com 
petitor  in  horse-flesh  with  their  great  man  they 
could  keep  their  temper,  but  the  coolness  and  in 
difference  of  his  present  conduct  are  intolerable." 

"  Did  you  hear  what  Ermine  had  been  sus 
pended  for  ?" 

7 


74  WEA.LTH    AND    WORTH;    OR, 

"  He  was  found  tipsy  at  the  theatre  last  week." 
"  Poor  fellow  !     What  a  melancholy  spectacle 
it  must  be  to  him  to  see  so  many  temperance  so 
cieties  springing  up  !" 

"  Come  to  recitation  !  There  is  the  bell !" 
Nearly  two  months  had  passed  since  Harry  had 
visited  Capeville.  He  had  sent,  through  Edwin, 
a  volume  of  music  handsomely  bound  to  Ellen, 
which  was  very  properly  accepted.  Mrs.  Clare 
did  not  encourage  her  son,  however,  to  invite  him 
again  to  the  cottage.  She  saw  that  he  was  quite 
well  enough  pleased  with  Ellen's  society,  and  she 
feared  that  a  prolonged  acquaintance  would  make 
Ellen  equally  pleased  with  his.  Both  were  young ; 
and  Mrs.  Clare  was  aware  of  the  prejudices  of  the 
rich  and  fashionable  in  regard  to  the  alliances  of 
their  children. 

The  autumnal  vacation  was  now  approaching  ; 
and  Henry  Maverick  was  preparing  to  return  to 
Eagles  wood.  He  had  wished,  however,  first  to 
take  leave  of  his  friends  at  Capeville  ;  and  Edwin, 
who  was  becoming  sincerely  attached  to  him, 
could  not  forbear  inviting  him  to  make  another 
visit.  Together  they  again  left  Cambridge,  and, 
on  a  fine  morning  in  August,  drew  up  before  the 
little  cottage  at  Capeville.  Again  did  Miss  Snim 
thrust  her  sharp  visage  out  of  the  window  of  her 
shop,  and  again  did  she  wonder  what  the  "  young 
colleger"  had  to  do  at  the  Widow  Clare's  cottage. 
"  Well !"  exclaimed  Miss  Snim,  "  if  the  select 
men  don't  inquire  into  this  business,  then  it's  be 
cause  they  don't  know  their  duty — that  I  will  say. 
The  next  thing  we  shall  hear  of  will  be  an  elope 
ment  or  something  worse.  I  have  always  told  the 
widow,  that  Miss  Nell  was  a  little  too  forward  and 


WHICH    MAKES    THE    MAN  ?  75 

independent  in  her  movements  for  my  taste.  Oh, 
I  wish  I  had  the  bringing-up  of  her !  She  shouldn't 
open  her  lips  in  the  presence  of  a  man  under  six 
ty,  unless  it  was  a  settled  clergyman,  and  she 
shouldn't  sit  in  the  singing-seats  unless  there  was 
a  married  woman  on  each  side  of  her.  Well !  it 
shan't  be  my  fault,  if  she  goes  to  ruination.  I'll 
just  shut  up  my  shop,  and  run  and  ask  old  Mrs. 
Prim  what  had  better  be  done  about  it." 

Harry's  reception  at  the  cottage  was  cordial  on 
all  sides  ;  and  the  fact  cannot  be  denied,  that  there 
was  a  little  more  heartiness  in  Ellen's  welcome 
than  a  coquette  would  have  thought  prudent. 

The  day  flew  rapidly  by.  Ellen,  after  singing 
some  of  the  new  songs  Harry  had  presented,  was 
putting  on  her  bonnet  for  another  walk  with  him 
to  the  beach,  when  a  man  on  horseback,  who  had 
evidently  been  riding  at  considerable  speed,  stop 
ped  before  the  cottage.  He  inquired  for  Mr. 
Henry  Maverick,  and  put  a  packet  sealed  with 
black  into  his  hands,  saying  that  he  had  been  sent 
all  the  way  from  New  York  to  deliver  it — that  he 
had  stopped  at  his  apartments  at  Cambridge,  and 
learned  from  an  old  woman,  that  Mr.  Henry  had 
gone  to  Capeville  for  a  day  or  two  with  Mr.  Clare. 
Immediately  mounting  a  horse,  he  had  found  his 
way  to  the  cottage,  having  inquired  at  a  little  shop 
round  the  corner,  if  there  were  any  such  person  as 
Mr.  Clare  in  the  village. 

Long  before   the   man  had  finished  his   story, 

Harry  had  seized  the  packet,  and,  with  •    -,-,1    "  "' 

j.  i.     •          11  T-tir-     Emme- 

and  a  beattng  heart,  having  asker'    ,        ghe  wm 

him  for  a  few  moments,  had  j  ^        which 
her  to  discover  the  content^    ^  ig  £ru  gling 
"  Is  the  news  bad  ?"  a? 

7* 


76  WEALTH   AND   WORTH  ;   OR, 

with  no  little  anxiety  depicted  in  her  counte 
nance. 

;'  I  can't  say,  miss.  I  was  paid  for  my  job,  and 
sent  off  in  such  a  hurry  as  to  have  no  time  for 
asking  questions.  The  woman  who  keeps  the 
shop  just  round  the  corner  yonder,  kept  me  five 
minutes  asking  me  questions,  or  I  should  have 
been  here  sooner.  Isn't  she  a  teaser  ?  I  thought 
she  would  seize  hold  of  me,  so  cantankerous  was 
she  to  hear  the  news.  I  couldn't  make  her  believe 
that  I  had  no  news  to  tell." 

At  another  time,  Ellen  might  have  smiled  at 
this  instance  of  Miss  Snim's  ruling  propensity ; 
but  she  was  now  filled  with  anxiety,  lest  "  her 
brother's  friend"  might  be  in  distress  at  the  recep 
tion  of  melancholy  intelligence. 

The  news  was  melancholy,  as  the  following 
letter  from  Mr.  Wainbridge  will  show  : — 

"  MY  DEAR  HENRY  : — The  arrival  of  a  special 
messenger  and  the  black  seal  upon  my  letter  will 
have  prepared  you  for  intelligence  of  a  serious 
and  mournful  character.  A  member  of  your  family 
is  dead,  and  that  member  is  your  father.  You 
will  of  course  return  home  with  all  possible  ex 
pedition  ;  but  I  fear  you  will  not  be  in  season  to 
attend  his  remains  to  their  last  resting-place. 

"  It  appears  that  your  father's  affairs  have  been 
very  much  involved  of  late.  He  had  speculated 
largely  and  boldly ;  not  only  in  that  article  of 

'i~r~7-»-  m  which  he  had  been  accustomed 
men  don  t  im,,  ^tern  ]an(]g  an(J  various  stocks  of 
cause  they  don  t  .  The  failure  of  some  of  thege 
The  next  thing  we  .  Voke  in  hig  ^ 

mentor  something  wo  embarrassments 

widow,  that  Miss  Nell  wa«. 


WHICH   MAKES   THE   MAN  ?  77 

that  soon  affected  his  credit.  The  banks  refused 
him  discounts,  and  his  fellow-merchants  declined 
endorsing  for  him.  He  saw  no  means  of  meeting 
his  engagements. 

"  Last  Friday  night,  he  sat  up  writing  and  ex 
amining  a  variety  of  complicate  accounts.  He 
seems  to  have  accomplished  a  vast  amount  of  la 
bor.  His  protracted  mental  exertion,  combined 
with  anxiety  and  depression  of  spirits,  produced  a 
determination  of  blood  to  the  head,  which  was 
fatal.  He  was  found  in  the  morning  lifeless  in 
his  chair,  a  sheet  of  paper  half  covered  with  fig 
ures  before  him,  and  his  ringers  grasping  the  pen, 
as  if  about  to  write.  His  countenance  was  placid, 
and,  from  its  expression,  we  may  hope  that  he  died 
without  pain. 

"  I  need  hardly  add  that  this  deplorable  event 
was  totally  unexpected  to  your  family.  Your 
mother  did  not  even  know  that  her  husband  was 
embarrassed  in  his  affairs.  He  was  not  one  to 
carry  the  gloom  of  his  business  troubles  and  vex 
ations  into  the  domestic  circle ;  and,  with  the  ex 
ception  that  he  seemed  to  be  more  immersed  in 
business  than  usual,  and  at  night  more  restless 
and  wakeful,  she  saw  no  variation  in  his  demeanor. 
I  conversed  with  him  the  day  before  his  death. 
He  spoke  of  you  with  affection,  and  asked  if  I 
had  received  a  letter  from  you  lately. 

"  Your  mother  is  of  course  in  very  great  afflic 
tion.  She  is  well  enough  to  write  you,  however, 
as  you  will  see  from  the  enclosed  letter.  Emme- 
line  appears  to  feel  the  shock  deeply.  She  will 
remain  silent  for  hours,  and  does  not  weep  ;  which 
is  a  bad  symptom,  where  the  mind  is  struggling 
with  intense  grief. 

7* 


78  WEALTH   AND   WORTH  ;   OR, 

"  I  rely  upon  your  firmness  and  manhood,  my 
dear  Henry,  to  act  well  on  this  occasion.  A  great 
responsibility  will  devolve  upon  you.  It  is  now 
time  for  you  to  show  that  you  have  not  been  a 
mere  student  of  words  and  things,  but  that  your 
heart  and  character  have  imdergone  a  fitting  edu 
cation,  and  that  you  are  fortified  by  Christian  faith 
to  endure  this  chastening  of  the  Lord.  My  earnest 
sympathy  and  co-operation  are  with  you.  Come 
on  here  without  delay.  At  the  request  of  your 
mother,  I  am  superintending  everything  at  Eagles- 
wood. 

"With  constant  prayers  for  your  well-being,  I 
remain,  Yours  sincerely, 

"  STANLEY  WAINBRIDGE." 

The  letter  from  Mrs.  Maverick,  referred  to  by 
Mr.  Wainbridge,  was  as  follows : 

"  DEAR  HARRY  : — You  have  heard  the  dreadful 
news.  Pray  come  on  without  delay.  My  nerves 
are  terribly  shocked.  Your  poor  father  never  told 
me  a  word  about  his  embarrassments.  Eagles- 
wood  will  have  to  be  put  under  the  hammer.  I 
shall  not  survive  it,  I  fear.  Your  sister  is  no  com 
fort  to  me  under  this  trial.  While  I  am  crying 
and  crying,  she  sits  staring  at  me  with  her  great 
blue  eyes,  without  shedding  a  tear  or  speaking  a 
word.  I  do  wish  she  would  take  on  a  little.  It 
would  be  a  relief. 

"  I  have  placed  everything  in  Mr.  Wainbridge's 
hands,  who  is  very  good  and  considerate,  and  has 
kept  off  three  or  four  hungry-looking  lawyers,  who 
came  up  the  moment  poor  Mr.  M.'s  death  was 
announced  in  the  city  papers.  Come  with  all 


WHICH   MARKS   THE   MAN?  79 

speed,  my  dear  son,  for  I  am  terribly  depressed  by 
this  sad  bereavement.      Your  affectionate  mother, 
"MARY  MAVERICK." 

Henry's  grief  was  at  first  violent.  He  buried  his 
face  in  the  pillow,  and  half  stifled  himself  in  the 
attempt  to  repress  the  noise  of  his  sobs.  He  re 
called  to  mind  the  many  instances  of  his  father's 
kindness  and  liberality,  and  of  his  own  disobe 
dience  and  neglect.  He  remembered  the  conversa 
tion  on  the  lawn,  the  day  he  sailed  on  the  river, 
contrary  to  his  express  command.  With  what 
delicacy  did  his  father  avoid  alluding  to  the  sub 
ject  after  the  afflicting  catastrophe  which  follow 
ed  !  How  indulgent  he  had  always  been  ! 

Ah !  how  poignantly  does  death  make  us  feel 
every  past  act  of  unkindness  or  neglect  toward  a 
beloved  object !  How  do  we  reproach  ourselves 
for  every  harsh  word,  every  angry  look,  every  dis 
obliging  omission !  With  what  a  sense  of  relief 
does  memory  recur  to  those  evidences  of  affection, 
those  deeds  of  love,  which  redeem  the  dark  side 
of  the  retrospect !  Let  the  lesson  teach  us  to  be 
less  chary  of  the  charities  and  amenities  of  life  ; 
to  conquer  that  fretfulness  of  temper,  which  is 
too  often  productive  of  acerbities  that  imbitter 
the  intercourse  between  friends  and  kindred,  and 
leave  rankling  remembrances  behind  them.  Let 
us  love  one  another.  Brief  is  our  sojourn  in  this 
school  of  mortality.  Why  should  we  cloud  our 
fleeting  days,  and  violate  the  primal  law  which 
Christ  has  imposed,  by  our  paltry  quarrels  and 
misunderstandings  ?  Let  us  love  one  another. 

Hours  flew  by  without  Harry's  being  aware  that 
minutes  even  had  passed.  Time  stands  still  while 


80  WEALTH   AND    WORTH  ;    OR, 

passion  rages.  At  length  a  knock  at  the  door 
aroused  him.  He  stared  around,  hardly  recollect 
ing  where  he  was  or  what  had  happened.  For  a 
moment  he  stood  and  asked  himself,  Is  not  this  a 
dream  ?  am  not  I  myself  a  dream  ?  Consciousness 
at  length  returned.  He  opened  the  door.  With  a 
look  of  concern,  Edwin  entered,  and  asked  if  any 
thing  unfavorable  had  happened  ?  Harry  handed 
him  Mr.  Wainbridge's  letter.  Edwin  read  it,  and 
refolding  the  paper,  gave  it  back.  He  did  not  at 
tempt  the  hollow  common-places  of  consolation. 
He  knew  how  like  mockery  they  fall  on  the  spirit 
newly  bruised.  He  simply  advised  Harry  to  leave 
instantly  for  Boston,  in  order  to  be  in  season  for  the 
train  of  cars  that  started  in  the  afternoon  for  Provi 
dence.  Harry  mutely  assented. 

The  carriage  was  brought  round  from  the  tavern  ; 
and  Edwin,  re-entering  his  friend's  room,  told  him 
that  all  was  ready  for  his  departure.  Harry  took 
his  arm  in  silence,  and  they  walked  through  the 
entry  toward  the  front  door.  Rallying  his  spirits, 
he  stepped  into  the  parlor  to  take  leave  of  Mrs. 
Clare  and  Ellen.  They  had  briefly  learned  from 
Edwin  the  news  of  his  affliction.  He  saw  at  once, 
from  their  sympathizing  looks,  that  no  explanation 
was  required.  Mrs.  Clare  received  his  proffered 
hand,  and  said  ;  "  My  young  friend,  I  will  not  pre 
sume  to  attempt  the  consolation  which  God  and 
time  alone  can  give.  Our  prayers  are  all  we  can 
offer." 

Ellen  said  nothing;  for  her  heart  was  full  as 
she  gazed  in  the  pale  face  of  "  her  brother's  friend." 
But  the  soul  that  beamed  through  her  tears — what 
volumes  of  tenderness  and  of  truth  did  it  speak ! 
Harry  did  not  read  them  at  the  moment;  but, 


WHICH    MAKES  THE  MAN  ?  81 

years  afterward,  he  recalled  the  seraph-like  expres 
sion  with  a  vividness  which  reality  could  not  have 
surpassed. 

With  a  simple  "  God  bless  you !"  uttered  in 
faltering  tones,  he  took  leave  of  the  kind-hearted 
matron  and  her  daughter,  not  forgetting  Theodore, 
who  had  been  anticipating  great  sport  from  his 
company,  and  who  now  seemed  moved  by  a  disin 
terested  sorrow. 

It  was  agreed  that  Edwin  should  drive  Harry  to 
the  city,  where  he  would  probably  arrive  just  in 
season  to  take  the  cars.  Edwin  would  then  drive 
to  Cambridge,  arrange  his  friend's  baggage,  and 
send  it  to  New  York  by  the  next  day's  convey 
ance.  This  arrangement  was  effected.  They  reach 
ed  the  depot  some  minutes  before  the  cars  started ; 
bade  each  other  an  affectionate  farewell ;  and,  be 
fore  nightfall,  Harry  found  himself  on  board  the 
good  steamboat  Massachusetts,  on  his  way  home. 

The  night  was  dark  and  stormy.  Not  a  star 
was  visible.  On  through  the  rough  waters  the 
vessel  plunged,  with  a  wake  of  sparks  above,  and 
of  phosphoric  foam  below.  Harry  paced  the  hur 
ricane  deck  alone  for  hours.  At  length  a  shower 
of  rain  drove  him  to  take  shelter  in  the  long  cab 
in.  A  dim  light  glimmered  at  either  end.  It  was 
past  midnight.  The  passengers  had  retired  to 
their  berths.  The  colored  servants  lay  about  on 
the  settees  or  on  the  floor.  Things  seemed  more 
gloomy  here  than  on  deck.  The  noise  of  the  en 
gine,  the  moaning  of  the  wind,  the  laboring  and 
creaking  of  the  vessel,  as  she  staggered  through 
the  opposing  waves,  combined  to  increase  the  sen 
sation  of  desolateness  and  bereavement  which 
Maverick  now  experienced. 


82  WEALTH    AND    WORTH  ;    OR, 

He  moved  toward  the  table,  where  a  solitary 
candle,  with  a  long  unsnufied  wick,  shed  a  feeble 
ray.  A  book  attracted  his  notice.  It  was  a  Bible, 
presented,  for  the  use  of  passengers,  by  one  of  those 
beneficent  societies,  whose  object  it  is  to  multiply 
the  Scriptures,  and  place  them  within  the  reach  of 
the  whole  human  family.  Trimming  the  candle, 
Henry  Maverick  opened  the  volume  at  the  fifteenth 
chapter  of  the  first  Epistle  of  Paul  to  the  Corin 
thians,  and  read  those  sublime  assurances  of  the 
immortality  of  man,  which  must  always  carry  a 
consoling  power  to  the  heart  of  the  Christian,  and 
which  no  person  of  intellect  can  peruse,  without 
feeling  and  acknowledging  the  superhuman  inspi 
ration  of  the  language  and  the  sentiment. 

"  For  this  corruptible  must  put  on  incorruption, 
and  this  mortal  must  put  on  immortality." 

Maverick  closed  the  chapter,  and  covered  his 
face  with  his  hands.  An  internal  voice  confirmed 
the  solemn  truth.  An  awful  consciousness  of  im 
mortality  possessed  his  soul.  He  knew  that  his  fa 
ther,  though  dead,  was  yet  alive.  The  "  husk  of  ani 
mal  organization"  had  broken,  and  the  emancipated, 
imperishable  spirit  had  soared  to  a  new  existence. 
Why  repine  at  the  ordinations  of  God  ?  With  a 
prayer  of  contrition  and  resignation  in  his  heart, 
Maverick  bent  over  the  sacred  book.  The  storm 
within  his  soul  was  hushed  ;  for  "  o'er  its  troubled 
waves  the  Savior  walked."  Weary,  but  resigned, 
the  young  mourner  retired  to  his  berth;  and,  though 
the  winds  roared  without,  and  the  sea  dashed  fear 
fully  against  the  pitching  vessel,  he  soon  sank  in 
to  a  sweet  and  serene  sleep. 

Faint  not  in  your  noble  enterprise,  ye  propaga 
tors  of  God's  Book  of  Life !  How  often  have  ye 


WHICH    MAKES    THE    MAN  ? 


83 


been  the  means  of  shedding  the  light  of  its  truth, 
and  the  balm  of  its  consolation,  about  the  path  of 
earth-worn  pilgrims  !  How  often  have  the  sick 
heart  and  the  struggling  spirit  found  cause  to  bless 
your  pious  labors  !  Ye  may  never  know,  in  this 
world,  what  souls  ye  have  aided  to  purify  and  save, 
or  what  breaking  hearts  ye  have  aided  to  heal  ; 
but  God,  who  seeth  the  sparrow's  fall,  seeth  also 
these  things.  With  him  resteth  your  reward. 


84  WEALTH    AND    WORTH;    OR, 


CHAPTER  VII. 

4 

"Stephen.— I  see,  Sir  Thomas, 
Some  great  misfortune  has  befallen  you. 

Clifford.— No ! 

1  have  health  ;    I  have  strength  ;  my  reason,  Stephen,  and 
A  heart  that's  clear  in  truth,  with  trust  in  God. 
No  great  disaster  can  befall  the  man, 
Who's  still  possessed  of  these." 

KNOWLES. 

"  If  we  are  to  be  taken  from  this  abode,  only  let  us  hold  to  the  right, 
and  wherever  we  are  thrown,  we  can  still  retire  to  a  charming  apart 
ment,  where  we  can  look  round  our  own  hearts  with  intrepidity  and 
with  pleasure." 

GOLDSMITH. 

ON  arriving  at  Eagleswood,  Henry  found  Mr. 
Wainbridge  and  Ralph  Armstrong  in  the  library, 
busily  engaged  in  arranging  papers  and  unravel 
ling  accounts.  The  funeral  had  taken  place  the 
day  before.  Hastily  thanking  his  friends  for  their 
attention,  he  went  to  seek  his  mother  and  sister. 
Mrs.  Maverick  received  him  with  hysterical  fond 
ness,  followed  by  lamentations  for  their  bereave 
ment.  Emmeline  did  not  utter  a  sigh  or  shed  a 
tear.  She  received  his  embrace  without  return 
ing  it,  and  smiled  faintly,  as  if  unconscious  of  his 
presence,  when  he  looked  in  her  face. 

"I  am  afraid  the  poor  child's  wits  are  gone/' 
said  Mrs.  Maverick  ;  "  she  walks  about  so  quietly 
and  uncomplainingly.  And  no  wonder  she  feels 
the  blow  !  I  am  amazed  at  my  own  strength  of 
mind  in  not  giving  way  to  it.  Oh,  Harry,  we 


WHICH   MAKES   THE   MAN  ?  85 

are  ruined !     Everything  is  lost.     I  doubt  if  we 
shall  have  left  to  us  the  clothes  on  our  backs." 

Harry  was  pained  at  hearing  his  mother  lay 
more  stress  upon  the  loss  of  her  property  and  posi 
tion  than  of  her  husband.  With  some  good  quali 
ties,  she  had,  from  an  education  which  taught  her 
to  attach  too  much  importance  to  the  frivolities  of 
fashion,  contracted  a  worldliness  of  disposition 
that  imbued  her  whole  character.  She  had  mar 
ried  Mr.  Maverick  as  much  for  his  wealth  as  for 
his  amiable  traits  and  unexceptionable  person. 
And  now  that  he  was  dead,  she  mourned  his  de 
parture,  not  merely  because  she  was  deprived  of 
his  society,  but  because  those  worldly  luxuries, 
which  he  had  always  supplied,  must  now  be  aban 
doned.  If  you  ask,  how  happened  it  that  Emme- 
line  did  not  inherit  her  mother's  tastes  and  char 
acter,  I  can  only  attribute  it  to  the  fact  that  nature 
did  the  most  for  her  education.  Occupied  with 
her  own  affairs,  Mrs.  Maverick  did  not  interfere 
much  with  that  great  instructer.  Emmeline  pas 
sed  the  greater  part  of  the  year  in  the  country, 
unchecked  in  her  rambles,  and  almost  unguided  in 
her  pursuits.  For  the  original  direction  of  many 
of  her  habits  and  studies,  however,  she  was  in 
debted  to  an  intelligent  governess,  who  had  passed 
some  time  in  Europe,  and  who  took  a  deep  inter 
est  in  her  pretty  pupil.  The  governess,  after  re 
maining  nearly  three  years  in  the  family,  had 
married  and  gone  abroad.  Henry's  influence  was 
then  not  without  its  effect  upon  Emmeline's  char 
acter,  and  she  followed  him  in  all  his  favorite 
studies  with  sympathetic  fidelity.  To  her  father 
she  had  been  devotedly  attached ;  and  the  shock 
8 


86  WEALTH    AND    WORTH  ;    OR, 

occasioned  by  his  death  seemed  to  stun  and  con 
found  her  faculties. 

Mrs.  Maverick  was  proceeding  to  dilate  upon 
the  disastrous  condition  of  their  affairs  ;  but  Har 
ry  had  no  ear  for  anything  so  long  as  Emmeline 
continued  in  her  painfully  passive  state.  He  led 
her  forth  into  the  open  air.  Old  Hotspur  came  up 
to  them,  not  with  frolicsome  bounds  as  he  was 
wont,  but  with  a  sober  pace  and  a  demure  and 
wistful  look,  as  if  he  would  say  :  "  This  is  melan 
choly  business  for  all  of  us."  General  Mingo  stood 
currying  his  "  poor  massa's"  horse  in  the  sun,  as 
if  by  that  act  he  sought  to  blind  his  memory  to  the 
loss  he  had  sustained.  On  seeing  Harry  and  Em 
meline,  he  approached,  shook  hands  with  "  young 
massa,"  and  then,  with  a  mournful  wave  of  the 
head,  returned  to  his  labor. 

Entering  the  garden,  Henry  Maverick  led  his 
sister  to  the  same  rustic  seat  he  had  formerly  oc 
cupied  with  her,  when  recovering  from  his  first 
severe  illness.  The  morning  was  fresh  and  clear. 
The  shower  of  the  preceding  day  had  washed  the 
sky  of  all  its  stains,  and  brightened  the  deciduous 
foliage.  The  mellow  earth  seemed  laughing  in 
the  warm  sunshine. 

"  Do  you  not  remember,"  said  Henry,  taking 
his  sister's  hand,  "  those  days  when  you,  Emme 
line,  used  to  sit  by  my  bed-side,  after  poor  Char 
ley  Brudenel  had  been  lost  in  my  gay  little  boat, 
the  Arrow  ?  and  how  you  used  to  read  to  me 
from  that  old  book  of  Fairy  Tales,  with  the  picture 
of  Cherry  and  Fair  Star  in  the  beginning  ?  and 
how,  when  I  began  to  recover  from  my  long  ill 
ness,  you  led  me  forth  one  bright  morning  like 
this,  to  this  very  spot,  and  gathered  for  me  flowers 


WHICH    MAKES    THE    MAN?  87 

and  grapes  like  those  ?  and  how  Hotspur  frolick 
ed  about  us  and  barked,  and  you  sang  me  that  old 
song — what  was  it  1  You  have  not  forgotten  it  ? 
It  ran  something  thus  : — 

"  Let  us  flit  as  bright  as  spring ; 
Let  us  naught  but  pleasure  bring.'  " 

At  the  mention  of  Charles  Brudenel  and  the 
Arrow,  Emmeline's  bosom  had  begun  to  heave, 
and  her  eyes  to  glisten  with  intelligence  ;  and,  as 
Harry  hummed  the  old  song,  with  which  when  a 
child  she  had  essayed  to  win  him  from  dark 
thoughts,  she  murmured,  "  Brother  !  It  is  you  !" 
And  the  fountain  of  tears  was  at  once  unsealed, 
and  she  sank,  weeping,  upon  his  shoulder.  From 
that  moment  she  seemed  fully  restored  ;  and  her 
cheek,  which  had  grown  wofully  pale,  gradually 
reassumed  its  bloom.  Harry  led  her  to  those  high 
sources  of  consolation,  where  he  himself  had  found 
relief ;  and  her  soul  was  strengthened.  With  an 
intelligence  beyond  her  years,  she  now  entered 
into  his  labors,  and  communed  with  him  as  to  their 
plans  for  the  future. 

The  condition  of  Mr.  Maverick's  affairs  was 
found  even  worse  than  had  been  anticipated.  His 
liabilities  exceeded  his  available  assets  by  a  large 
sum.  Eagleswood  had  long  since  been  mort 
gaged  at  its  full  value,  and  it  must  now  inevitably 
be  sacrificed.  Indeed,  it  was  discovered  that  after 
all  the  property,  accessible  to  creditors,  was  sur 
rendered,  and  all  the  debts  of  the  family  were 
paid,  there  would  only  remain  personal  property 
enough  to  allow  an  annuity  of  two  or  three  hun 
dred  dollars.  This  was  a  deplorable  fall  for  a 


88  WEALTH    AND    WORTH  ;    OR, 

family  who  had  been  accustomed  to  live  at  the 
rate  of  twenty  thousand  a  year. 

Such  was  the  most  favorable  result  at  which 
Mr.  Wainbridge  could  arrive,  after  laborious  in 
vestigations,  and  several  consultations  with  the 
lawyers,  employed  by  Mr.  Maverick's  creditors. 
Henry  received  the  intelligence  with  composure. 
The  thought  of  surrendering  Eagleswood,  the 
spot  where  he  was  born,  and  where  he  had  passed 
so  many  pleasant  hours,  was  somewhat  bitter. 
The  reflection  that  his  mother  and  sister  would  be 
deprived  of  the  luxuries  to  which  they  had  been 
accustomed,  brought  with  it  a  pang.  His  eye  fell 
on  a  fine  blood  horse,  grazing  in  a  neighboring 
park,  and  the  recollection  that  he  must  henceforth 
content  himself  with  exercise  on  foot,  provoked  a 
momentary  sigh.  But  he  looked  to  Heaven  for 
support,  and  his  unavailing  regrets  gave  way.  He 
was  no  longer  the  creature  of  impulse.  With  his 
religious  faith,  a  deep  and  abiding  principle  had 
been  born,  which  actuated  him  now,  and  seemed 
to  supply  in  many  instances  the  place  of  worldly 
experience.  He  was  resolved  to  do  his  duty. 
Conscience  and  revelation  would  tell  him  what 
that  duty  was. 

Mrs.  Maverick,  after  starting  several  impracti 
cable  plans,  ended  in  confiding  everything  to 
Henry — declaring  always,  that  she  could  not  long 
survive  such  a  terriblje  change  of  position,  and  tel 
ling  him  to  make  sudh  arrangements  as  he  thought 
wisest.  After  consulting  with  Mr.  Wainbridge, 
he  determined  upon  his  course.  He  engaged  a 
small  house  in  the  city,  at  an  extremely  moderate 
rent,  and  furnished  it  comfortably  from  the  nu 
merous  articles  at  Eagleswood  which  he  saved 


WHICH   MAKES   THE   MAN  1  89 

from  the  hammer  of  the  auctioneer.  He  then  dis 
charged  all  the  servants,  except  a  female  cook,  and 
old  Mingo.  Indeed,  it  would  have  been  a  difficult 
matter  to  discharge  the  latter.  He  would  not  have 
stayed  discharged. 

Every  article  of  property  that  was  not  imme 
diately  necessary  was  sold  at  auction — the  horses, 
coaches,  boats,  pictures,  statues,  books,  and  the  cab 
inet  of  gems,  with  the  aviary  and  hot-house  plants 
included.  Harry  also  wrote  to  Edwin  Clare  to  dis 
pose  of  his  horses,  coach,  and  furniture  at  Cam 
bridge,  and,  with  the  proceeds,  to  pay  his  college 
debts — a  commission  which  was  punctually  dis 
charged.  He  then  called  together,  at  Eagleswood, 
all  the  minor  creditors,  trades-people,  and  laborers, 
and  settled  their  accounts.  Knowing  the  circum 
stances  under  which  Mr.  Maverick  had  died,  many 
of  them  had  expected  to  be  put  off;  and  they  now 
witnessed  with  respect  Mr.  Henry's  conduct. 

One  of  them,  a  butcher,  named  Lewis,  whose 
bill  amounted  to  upward  of  a  hundred  dollars, 
waited  until  there  was  no  danger  of  his  being 
overheard,  and  then  requested  Harry  to  let  the  bill 
stand. 

"  Why  so,  Lewis  ?" 

"  Well,  to  be  candid  and  above  board,  Mr.  Hen 
ry,  the  moment  I  saw  those  three  lawyers  prowl 
ing  about  the  rooms,  that  moment  I  knew  that  they 
would  leave  plaguey  little  of  the  tin  behind  them. 
And  so,  you  see,  if  it  would  be  a  convenience — " 

"  Ah,  Lewis,  don't  abuse  the  lawyers.  I  intend 
to  be  a  lawyer  myself." 

"  Then  there  will  be  one  honest  lawyer  of  my 
acquaintance,   and  depend  upon  it,  Mr.  Henry,  I 
will  send  you  all  the  custom  of  our  county." 
8* 


90  WEALTH  AND    WORTH  ;    OR, 

"  Thank  you,  Lewis  ;  I  will  endeavor  to  justify 
your  good  opinion." 

.  "  Well,  Mr.  Henry,  it  is  now  ten  years,  come 
next  May,  that  I  have  supplied  Eagleswood  with 
meat,  and  many  is  the  pleasant  greeting  and  com 
panionable  word  that  I  have  had  from  your  father 
and  you.  Never  did  I  know  him  to  haggle,  like 
some  of  his  rich  neighbors,  about  a  cent  or  two  in 
the  price  of  a  pound  of  beef ;  and  never  did  he 
dispute  my  bills,  although  once,  I  remember,  I 
charged  him  ten  dollars  too  much — a  mistake — 
which  I  made  all  right  in  the  next  year's  account. 
And  so,  Mr.  Henry,  if  you  won't  let  the  bill  stand, 
just  say  you  will  call  on  Sim  Lewis,  if  you  should 
ever  want  the  loan  of  a  couple  of  hundred  dollars 
or  so  on  long  interest.  Perhaps  I  could  make  it 
twice  as  much  on  a  pinch.  Leave  a  note  for  me 
at  the  Butchers'  and  Drovers'  Bank  in  the  Bow 
ery,  and  you  will  be  sure  to  hear  from  me  in  the 
course  of  the  next  day." 

Heartily  thanking  the  honest  butcher,  Harry  as 
sured  him  that  he  would  bear  his  generous  offer 
in  mind. 

Immediate  preparations  were  now  made  for  leav 
ing  Eagleswood,  and  removing  to  the  humble  dom- 
icil  which  Henry  had  engaged  in  the  city.  The 
furniture  which  he  had  retained  had  been  packed 
off,  and  a  day  was  fixed  for  the  departure  of  the 
family ;  but  owing  to  the  unfavorableness  of  the 
weather,  they  tarried  beyond  the  period  fixed.  At 
length  the  sun  rose  clear  and  bright.  It  was  a 
beautiful  morning  in  September. 

"  We  will  leave  Eagleswood  to-day,  Emme- 
line,"  said  Henry. 

"  Yes,  brother,  we  are  all  ready.     I  have  found 


WHICH    MAKES    THE    MAN  ?  91 

a  purchaser  for  the  harp.  My  old  Italian  master, 
Bartozzi,  has  recommended  it  so  strongly  to  Mrs. 
Dan  ton,  that  she  has  concluded  to  purchase  it  for 
Lucy." 

"  And  what  will  she  give  you  for  it,  my  dear  ?" 

"  Oh,  she  says  she  will  give  two  hundred  dol 
lars." 

"  Less  than  one  half  what  it  is  worth.  No, 
Emmeline,  don't  let  her  have  it.  She  knows  per 
fectly  well  that  it  cost  seven  hundred  dollars  not 
two  years  ago.  We  must  be  shrewd  in  our  bar 
gains  now,  my  dear,  and  always  have  an  eye  to 
the  main  chance.  I  will  send  the  harp  to  some 
music-store,  where  we  shall  probably  be  able  to 
obtain  for  it  at  least  half  as  much  as  it  is  worth." 

"  Dear  me,  children,"  sighed  Mrs.  Maverick, 
"  how  can  you  talk  so  coolly  about  these  things  ? 
I  begin  to  think  that  you  have  no  feeling." 

"  Why,  mother,"  returned  Emmeline,  "  is  it  any 
great  privation  to  part  with  my  harp,  when,  by  so 
doing,  I  shall  bestow  the  more  attention  on  my  pi 
ano  ?" 

"  Well,  child,  the  piano  will  go  next ;  and  what 
will  you  do  then  ?" 

"  Oh,  then  I  shall  devote  myself  to  cultivating 
my  voice,  which  would,  perhaps,  be  much  the  best 
plan.  It  will  puzzle  them  to  sell  that  at  auction." 

"  La,  child,  how  can  you  be  so  light-hearted, 
when  it  isn't  a  month  since  your  poor  father  died  ? 
You  must  always  be  either  sad  as  an  oyster,  or 
lively  as  a  cricket.  Why  don't  you  take  more  af 
ter  me  ?" 

Emmeline  felt  the  deep  injustice  of  the  strange 
and  inconsistent  rebuke,  and  was  silent. 

Mrs.  Maverick   continued:  "For  my  part,  I 


92  WEALTH    AND    WORTH  ;    OR, 

don't  see  much  worth  living  for,  now  that  every 
thing  is  gone  by  the  board.  Dear  me  !  what  will 
the  Van  Rapps  say  ?  How  the  Dantons  will  look 
down  on  us  !  And  how  that  odious  Mrs.  Sumpter 
will  pretend  to  pity  us,  while  all  the  time  she  is 
chuckling  at  our  downfall !  I  wonder  if  Sir  Wil 
liam  will  bow  to  us  in  Broadway  ?  or  if  Charlotte 
Ermine  will  ask  us  to  her  dejeuners  ?  Dear  me  !" 

"  We  shall  have  this  advantage,"  said  Harry,  at 
the  close  of  his  mother's  Jeremiad  ;  "  an  advan 
tage  which  the  rich  cannot  always  enjoy — we  shall 
know  who  are  really  our  friends." 

"Mercy  upon  it!  how  can  a  person  expect 
friends  without  the  means  of  entertaining  them  ?" 

"  And  so  you  would  call  the  friends  of  your  en 
tertainments,  your  friends  ?  That  is  not  good  rea 
soning,  my  dear  mother.  A  person  may  be  very 
fond  of  my  dinners,  and  yet  care  as  little  for  me 
as  for  the  servant  who  hands  him  his  soup." 

"  But  is  it  not  dreadful  to  descend  so  suddenly 
in  the  world  ?" 

"  Not  unless  we  fall  through  our  own  follies  or 
crimes.  I  do  not  see  why  a  man  should  not  come 
down  hill  as  gracefully  as  he  went  up." 

"  Oh,  it  is  very  easy  to  talk,  Harry,  and  philoso 
phize,  but  the  thing  is  to  do.  When  it  comes  to 
wanting  a  good  dinner  or  decent  clothes,  you  will 
see  the  difference  between  speculation  and  real 
ity." 

"  I  can  only  pray  that  such  reverses  may  not  oc 
cur  through  any  delinquency  on  my  part ;  and  that, 
should  they  come,  I  may  meet  them  manfully. 
Ah,  mother,  it  is  a  benign  ordination  of  nature, 
that  affliction  almost  always  brings  with  it  its  own 
antidote.  Every  sphere  of  life  has  its  peculiar 

'• 


WHICH  MAKES  THE  MAN?         93 

pleasures  and  pains.  If  we  are  low  in  fortune, 
the  desire  to  rise  affords  a  worthy  aim,  and,  if  suc 
cessful,  a  positive  pleasure.  If  we  are  high,  it  may 
be  a  satisfaction  to  behold  so  many  beneath  us  ; 
but  which  is  the  nobler  and  purer  delight  ?" 

"  Ah,  Harry,  when  the  stern  struggles  come, 
you  will  find  all  this  is  mere  boy's  talk.  I  know 
enough  of  the  world  to  know  that  indigence  is  bit 
ter." 

"  But  we  will  not  call  that  condition  indigent, 
mother,  where  we  are  merely  deprived  of  super 
fluous  luxuries.  While  I  have  health,  strength, 
and  independence,  no  man.  can  call  me  poor. 
What  says  the  old  song  ?" 

"  Psha,  Harry  !  you  are  always  quoting  scraps 
of  old  songs." 

"  Well,  listen  to  this,  and  believe  there  is  some 
thing  more  in  it  than  rhyme  and  metre  : 

f  Opinion  is  the  rate  of  things, 

From  hence  our  peace  doth  flow ; 
I  have  a  better  fate  than  kings. 
Because  I  think  it  so.' " 

"  That  is  a  very  good  song  for  beggars  to  sing, 
Master  Henry." 

"  God's  pensioners  we  will  be,  my  dear  mother, 
but  not  man's — not  while  my  right  hand  retains  its 
cunning." 

Before  the  conversation  could  be  resumed  by 
Mrs.  Maverick,  the  noise  of  a  scuffle  in  the  entry 
was  heard,  and  with  it  Ralph  Armstrong's  voice, 
exclaiming,  "  I  forbid  your  entering  that  room,  gen 
tlemen.  The  family  are  there." 

"  And  what  care  I  for  the  family  ?"  said  Raven- 
stone  Hardworth  in  reply ;  "  they  engaged  to  leave 


94  WEALTH   AND   WORTH  J   OR, 

this  place  yesterday.  They  have  no  longer  any 
right  here.  The  place  is  my  father's — he  has 
bought  it  of  the  assignees.  If  these  folks  want 
charity,  let  them  apply  to  the  parish  authorities. 
Open  here,  I  say  !" 

Hardworth  knocked  violently  at  the  door,  and 
Henry  Maverick  threw  it  open.  Armstrong,  who, 
at  this  last  climax  of  brutality,  had  struck  the  in 
truder  in  the  face,  was  struggling  in  his  grasp, 
while  our  estimable  friend  Ermine,  armed  with  a 
cane,  was  valorously  endeavoring  to  find  a  safe 
opportunity  to  hit  the  blacksmith's  son  a  blow  on 
the  head.  Harry  arrested  him  in  his  purpose,  and 
advised  him  to  be  prudent  and  step  aside — a  moni 
tion  which  was  obeyed  with  alacrity.  Then  part 
ing  the  combatants,  Harry  folded  his  arms,  and 
quietly  regarded  the  young  ruffian,  who  had  taken 
this  opportunity  to  pay  off  old  scores  by  an  inso 
lent  abuse  of  authority. 

For  a  moment,  Hardworth  was  disconcerted  ; 
and  then,  rallying  his  bad  passions,  he  said — 
"  Come,  Frank !  these  good  people  mean  to  hang 
on  to  the  last ;  but  I  suppose  they  will  not  object 
to  our  examining  the  rooms." 

"  Do  you  mean  to  let  them  enter  ?"  asked  Ralph. 
Armstrong. 

"  Certainly,"  returned  Harry  ;  "  but  I  shall  ac 
company  them,  to  see  that  they  behave  themselves 
with  decency  in  the  presence  of  hidies." 

Hardworth  and  his  companion  entered.  Ermine 
had  a  cigar  in  his  mouth.  Maverick  politely  request 
ed  hifn  to  throw  it  aside.  Attributing  the  mild 
ness  of  the  tone  to  fear,  Ermine  refused.  Harry 
dashed  the  cigar  out  of  his  hands  to  the  ground. 
Ermine  at  first  seemed  disposed  to  resent  the  in- 


WHICH    MAKES    THE    MAN  ?  95 

dignity,  but  speedily  concluded  that  he  would  pass 
it  by  with  silent  contempt.  It  seemed  to  him,  as 
he  afterward  said,  that  there  was  something  dan 
gerous  in  Maverick's  eye.  He  did  not  venture  to 
pick  up  the  cigar.  Hardworth  kept  on  his  hat. 
Maverick  gently  removed  it,  and  handed  it  to  him 
with  a  bow.  It  was  not  again  placed  in  its  offen 
sive  positipn  while  the  ladies  were  present,  al 
though  the  act  caused  Hardworth  to  bite  his  lip 
till  the  blood  came,  with  rage.  He  had  entered 
the  house,  prepared  to  bully  and  insult  the  whole 
family  ;  but  the  quiet  energy  of  Harry  awed  him 
and  his  imbecile  companion  ;  and  the  cold,  proud 
glance  of  Mrs.  Maverick,  who  now  drew  herself 
up  with  true  and  becoming  dignity,  made  them  feel 
decidedly  uncomfortable. 

The  silence  was  becoming  embarrassing,  when 
Hardworth  ventured  to  remark,  that  he  should  have 
"  those  bow-windows  altered,  and  that  old-fashion 
ed  wainscoting  knocked  away.  And,  by  the  way, 
that  old  oak-tree  in  front  must  bite  the  dust.  It 
intercepts  the  view  of  the  steamboats  on  the  river." 

Poor  Harry  !  The  old  oak-tree  was  associated 
with  the  earliest  and  happiest  recollections  of  his 
childhood.  From  one  of  its  sturdiest  branches 
hung  the  swing,  which  had  so  often  borne  him  and 
Emmeline  through  the  rushing  air.  She  now 
looked  at  him,  as  they  heard  the  barbarous  propo 
sition,  with  a  glance  in  which  tenderness  and  in 
dignation  were  strangely  blended. 

Mr.  Ermine  seemed  struck  with  the  propriety 
of  cutting  down  the  old  tree.  Indeed,  he  did  not 
much  see  the  use  of  having  any  trees  on  the  place, 
except  one  or  two  to  smoke  under  in  summer.  He 
declared,  that  if  the  estate  were  his,  he  would 


96  WEALTH    AND    WORTH  ;    OR, 

"  level  that  grove  of  chestnuts,  and  turn  the  ground 
into  a  race-course."  Then  pulling  out  his  watch, 
he  reminded  his  companion  that  the  cock-fight  at 
Danforth's  came  off  at  one  o'clock,  and  that  he 
would  not  miss  it  on  any  account,  as  he  had  bets 
pending.  Hardworth  agreed  that  they  ought  not 
to  miss  the  sport ;  and  the  two  elegant  young  men 
immediately  started  to  go.  Hardworth,  when  at 
the  door,  turned  to  make  some  impertinent  remark, 
but  he  encountered  the  eyes  of  Ralph  Armstrong, 
looking  so  particularly  "  wolfish,"  that  he  conclu 
ded  to  forbear ;  and,  taking  Mr.  Ermine's  arm,  he 
departed,  remarking  to  his  companion,  that  "  the 
next  time  they  came,  they  would  bring  along  with 
them  the  servants  and  dogs." 

"  There  will  be  puppies  if  you  come,"  said 
Ralph,  who  was  getting  to  be  a  little  too  pugna 
cious,  and  whose  hard,  work-worn  hands  were 
quivering  to  make  an  anvil  of  the  soft  heads  of  the 
retiring  worthies. 

Hardworth  possessed  some  little  physical  cour 
age,  and  he  turned  to  resent  the  remark  ;  but 
Ermine  drew  him  away,  declaring  that  the  con 
test  would  be  unequal,  for  that  Armstrong,  when 
he  "  squared  off,  always  reminded  him  of  Deaf 
Burke." 

The  coach  that  was  to  convey  the  Mavericks  to 
their  new  residence  in  the  city  was  now  at  the 
door.  Mr.  Wainbridge,  the  Brudenels,  Ralph 
Armstrong,  and  a  number  of  poor  people  of  the 
village,  who  had  been  accustomed  to  receive  Em- 
meline's  charitable  visits,  were  on  the  piazza,  to 
take  leave  of  the  departing  family.  Mingo,  who, 
with  the  gayety  of  spirits  peculiar  to  his  people, 
had  reconciled  himself  to  the  change  in  the  for- 


WHICH   MAKES    THE   MAN  ?  97 

tunes  of  the  family,  was  seated  on  the  box  with 
the  coachman.  Mrs.  Maverick  had  entered  the 
carriage,  and  sank  back  on  the  seat  to  give  vent 
to  her  tears.  Mr.  Brudenel  was  attempting,  but 
not  with  apparent  success,  to  cheer  her  spirits. 
Emmeline  and  Mary  Brudenel  were  exchanging 
kisses  ;  and  an  old  Irish  woman,  who  had  received 
many  a  kindness  from  the  "  young  mistress,"  was 
bidding  "  bad  luck  to  the  likes  of  those  as  would 
hairin  a  hair  of  the  darlint's  head." 

In  his  way  to  the  coach,  Henry  Maverick  pass 
ed  through  the  library  where  he  had  spent  in  early 
youth  so  many  happy  and  profitable  hours.  The 
furniture  and  books  had  not  been  displaced.  The 
sun  streamed  cheerfully  in  at  the  window  over  the 
rich  carpet  as  of  yore,  lighting  up  even  the  stern 
antique  busts  over  the  book-cases  with  a  smile. 
Harry  paused.  His  eye  scanned  the  titles  of  the 
volumes  on  those  shelves,  with  which  he  was  most 
i'amiliar.  There  they  stood  in  the  same  places 
which  they  had  occupied  as  far  back  as  his  recol 
lection  could  go.  There  were  the  sterling  old  edi 
tions  of  Pope,  and  Addison,  and  Goldsmith,  and 
Johnson,  and  Milton,  and  Richardson,  and  Young, 
and  Burns,  and  Thomson,  and  Sterne,  and  their 
contemporaries,  the  poets,  moralists,  and  philoso 
phers  of  the  last  century.  There  was  the  illus 
trated  edition  of  Shakspeare,  over  which  he  had 
pored  with  the  freshness  of  boyish  admiration  and 
delight.  There  were  Boswell's  delightful  volumes, 
who  has  made  us  more  intimately  acquainted  with 
the  great  English  lexicographer,  than  if  we  had 
lived  and  dined  with  him.  There  were  the  works 
of  our  own  Franklin,  the  wit,  statesman,  and  sage  ; 
and  there  were  thousands  more.  How  wistfully 
9 


98  WEALTH    AND    WORTH  ;    OR, 

did  Harry  look  at  these  brave  old  companions ! 
His  breast  began  to  heave.  It  seemed  like  tear 
ing  himself  away  from  living  friends.  And  had 
they  not  been  living  friends,  counsellors,  and  com 
panions  to  his  heart  and  mind  ? 

Banishing  his  regrets  with  a  sigh,  he  left  the 
room,  with  its  "  old  familiar  faces,"  and  hastened 
to  join  his  sister  and  mother.  They  all  took  their 
places  in  the  coach.  Harry  shook  hands  with  his 
friends,  and,  by  a  strong  effort,  repressed  the  out 
ward  signs  of  emotion.  Mr.  Wainbridge  and  Ralph 
promised  to  visit  him  soon  in  the  city.  Mr.  Brude- 
nel  and  Mary,  with  tearful  eyes,  bade  him  fare 
well.  The  old  servants  of  the  family,  and  a  num 
ber  of  the  poor  people  of  the  village  who  stood 
by,  cried  :  "  God  bless  you,  Master  Harry  !"  and, 
"  The  Lord  prosper  you,  your  honor!"  and,  "  Good 
luck  to  the  likes  o'  you !"  And  amid  these  excla 
mations  and  good  wishes,  the  coachman  drove  off. 
Down  the  wide  gravelled  avenue,  bordered  by  ven 
erable  elms,  rolled  the  carriage.  The  very  branch 
es  of  the  trees,  as  their  leaves  brushed  the  coach 
window,  seemed  to  wave  a  not  unkind  adien.  The 
mansion  rose  white  and  fair  in  the  sunshine,  and 
never  did  its  aspect  seem  more  endearing  than  at 
this  moment  of  surrendering  it.  A  descent  in  the 
road  soon  hid  it  from  view,  and  then  the  broad 
blue  Hudson  flashed  on  the  sight,  in  all  its  glory. 
They  soon  reached  the  end  of  the  avenue.  The 
gate,  which  formed  the  southern  boundary  of  the 
Eagleswood  estate,  was  thrown  open  by  some  well- 
dressed  children  of  the  village,  who  courtesied 
and  bowed ;  and  the  next  moment  the  coach  was 
on  the  main  road  leading  along  the  bank  of  the 
river  to  the  city  of  New  York. 


WHICH    MAKES    THE    M£N  ?  99 

For  two  or  three  miles  the  inmates  of  the  coach 
seemed  tacitly  to  sympathize  in  one  another's 
grief.  Emmeline,  with  one  hand  clasping  her 
brother's,  held  her  handkerchief  to  her  eyes  with 
the  other ;  and  Mrs.  Maverick,  contrary  to  her 
usual  custom,  was  profoundly  silent. 

Happening  to  look  out  of  the  coach-window, 
Harry,  to  his  surprise,  saw  Hotspur  trotting  along 
by  the  side  of  the  vehicle  as  unconcernedly  as 
if  permission  had  actually  been  given  him  to  visit 
the  city.  The  fact  was,  that  the  dog  had  been 
consigned  to  the  care  of  Ralph  Armstrong,  and 
shut  up,  lest  if  he  followed  the  family  to  New 
York  he  might  fall  a  victim  to  the  dog-law,  which 
at  that  time  was  enforced  with  rigor.  Harry  or 
dered  the  coachman  to  stop,  and  then  directed  Min- 
go  to  drive  the  dog  back.  Mingo  obeyed,  and,  dis 
mounting,  began  to  remonstrate  with  Hotspur, 
much  as  he  would  with  a  human  being,  telling  him 
that  if  the  dog-killers  "  seed  him  in  Broadway  he 
would  be  a  used  up  child  before  he  was  a  day 
older," — asking  him  if  he  wished  to  be  made  into 
"  sassengers" — urging  him  to  go  home — and, 
finally,  threatening  him  with  the  whip.  To  all 
these  appeals,  Hotspur  was  inexorable.  He  bark 
ed,  as  much  as  to  say,  "The  dog-killers  can't 
frighten  this  child."  When  Mingo  attempted  to 
beat  him  he  would  retreat,  and  then,  as  soon  as 
the  general's  back  was  turned,  crouch  and  creep 
along  again  after  the  coach. 

At  length  the  attempt  to  induce  him  to  return 
home  was  abandoned  as  hopeless,  and  they  drove 
on.  Hotspur  trotted  patiently  along ;  and  after 
they  had  gone  three  or  four  miles,  Harry  ordered 
the  coach  to  stop  again,  and  opening  the  door,  told 


100  WKALTH    AND   WORTH  ;   OR, 

the  dog  to  come  in.  Wriggling  with  delight  like 
a  snake,  at  the  invitation,  Hotspur  gave*  a  leap,  and 
was  at  his  master's  feet,  pawing  about,  and  utter 
ing  a  low  yelp  of  gratification. 

"  Down,  sir,  down !"  said  Harry  ;  and  the  dog 
quietly  curled  himself  on  the  carpet  at  his  feet, 
and  resting  his  head  on  his  forepaws,  looked  si 
lently  up  in  his  master's  face  with  eyes  beaming 
with  sagacity  and  affection.  The  coach  drove  on, 
and  two  hours  afterward,  the  party  reached  the 
city. 


WHICH    MAKES    THE 


MAN?  101 


CHAPTER  VIII. 

"  Are  you  in  earnest  ?  seize  this  very  minute — 
What  you  can  do,  or  dream  you  can,  begin  it ; 
Boldness  has  genius,  power,  and  magic  in  it." 

GOETHE,  translated  by  ANSTER. 

ONE  of  the  most  disheartening  experiences 
which  a  young  man,  who  is  thrown  suddenly  into 
the  worlds  busy  arena  encounters,  is  the  finding 
that  humility  of  station  and  inoffensiveness  of  con 
duct  are  not  always  a  security  against  the  enmity 
and  malevolence  of  his  fellow-beings.  More  espe 
cially  is  the  youth  likely  to  meet  with  this  experi 
ence  in  his  career,  if  he  have  energy  of  character 
enough  to  pursue  an  independent  course,  and  to 
abide  rigidly  by  certain  principles  of  action,  which 
his  reason  and  conscience  have  approved. 

Warned  by  Mr.  Wainbridge  of  one  of  the  most 
perilous  defects  in  his  character,  his  pliability  of 
temper,  Henry  Maverick  had,  by  vigilance  and 
resolution,  reformed  it  altogether.  Principle,  and 
not  impulse,  was  now  his  guide.  The  new  re 
sponsibilities  which  had  fallen  upon  him,  tended 
to  confirm  and  indurate  those  adopted  traits,  which 
he  believed  to  be  the  constituents  of  manliness. 
At  the  age  of  seventeen  he  found  himself  in  a 
great  city,  with  a  mother  and  sister,  whose  means 
united  to  his  own  were  fcarely  sufficient  to  obtain 
for  them  the  necessaries  of  life/  He  felt  that  his 
9* 


102  WEALTH   AND   WORTH;   OR, 

own  intelligence  must  now  direct  him ;  and, 
though  always  willing  to  enlighten  his  opinions 
by  the  advice  and  suggestions  of  others,  he  was 
resolved,  that  if  his  little  bark  must  be  wrecked, 
it  should  not  be  through  his  intrusting  the  helm 
to  another's  hand,  however  that  other  might  boast 
of  his  superior  experience  and  skill. 

It  is  this  "  power  of  not  being  acted  upon"  by 
others,  which,  though  it  may  raise  up  enemies  to 
us  for  a  time,  is,  if  accompanied  by  virtue  and  in 
telligence,  almost  certain,  in  the  long  run,  to  win 
for  us  success.  Madame  de  Stael,  in  her  delinea 
tion  of  Bonaparte,  remarks,  with  her  usual  sagaci 
ty,  that  it  was  rather  because  other  men  did  not 
act  upon  him,  than  because  he  acted  upon  them, 
that  he  became  their  master ;  and  the  moralist, 
who  cites  this  example,  adds  :  "  The  susceptibility 
of  being  acted  upon  unfits  him,  who  is  extremely 
subject  to  it,  for  success  in  active  life." 

Now  it  happened,  that  a  day  or  two  after  the 
Mavericks  had  established  themselves  in  their 
humble  dwelling,  which  stood  in  one  of  those 
streets  leading  from  the  East  River  to  the  Bowery, 
they  received  a  visit  from  Mr.  Bloomwell,  a  mer 
chant,  who  had  known  the  family  in  their  prosperi 
ty,  and  who  now  came  with  the  honest  intention 
of  doing  them  a  kindness.  He  was  one  of  those 
men,  however,  who,  though  sincerely  pious  and 
religious,  seem  to  fail,  rather  through  a  mental 
than  a  moral  deficiency,  in  humility.  Take  his 
advice,  follow  his  prescriptions,  and  he  was  your 
fast  friend  ;  but  the  moment  you  undertook  to  set 
up  your  judgment  against  his,  and  to  question  his 
infallibility,  that  moment  he  became,  if  not  your  foe, 
no  longer  your  well-wisher.  In  this  he  violated, 


WHICH    MAKES    THE    MAN?  103 

though  unconsciously,  one  of  the  foremost  obliga 
tions  of  the  faith  which  he  venerated. 

After  indulging  in  some  moral  reflections,  which 
seemed  a  little  trite,  upon  the  mutability  of  human, 
affairs,  Mr.  Bloomwell  disclosed  the  immediate 
object  of  his  visit. 

"  I  have  pleasure,  Mr.  Henry,"  said  he,  "  in  in 
forming  you  that  I  have  secured  to  you  the  means 
of  self-support,  so  that  you  need  not  infringe  a 
cent  upon  the  little  annuity  which  should  go  to 
the  support  of  your  mother  and  sister." 

The  blood  mounted  a  little  in  Harry's  cheek  as 
he  replied :  "  Ah !  to  what  do  you  refer  ?" 

"  Although  you  have  not  stayed  out  your  whole 
term  at  college,  and  thereby  obtained  your  degree, 
I  have  yet  no  doubt  but  that  you  are  fully  compe 
tent  to  discharge  the  duties  of  usher  toward  the 
smaller  boys  in  a  classical  school." 

"  But,  allow  me" — 

"  Hear  me  out,  Master  Henry,  if  you  please, 
without  interruption.  I  have  found  precisely  the 
place  that  will  suit  you,  in  my  friend  Bunder's 
school  in  Grand-street.  The  discharge  of  the 
duties  will  not  occupy  more  than  seven  hours  of 
your  time  a  day,  and  you  will  have  every  Saturday 
afternoon  to  yourself.  The  salary  will  be  three 
hundred  dollars  a  year,  and,  if  you  give  satisfac 
tion,  it  will  probably  be  increased  when  the  usher 
above  you  goes  away.  There  were  several  ap 
plicants  for  the  situation,  but  the  moment  Dunder 
mentioned  it  to  me,  I  said  it  would  be  just  the 
thing  for  you,  and  secured  it  right  off.  How  provi 
dential,  that  Dunder  happened  to  speak  to  me 
about  it !" 

"  Indeed,  it  was  very  thoughtful  on  your  part, 


104  WEALTH   AND    WORTH  J    OH, 

sir,  to  think  of  my  poor  boy,"  said  Mrs.  Maverick, 
who  was  beginning  to  take  her  first  lessons  in  hu 
mility  in  the  strict  school  of  experience. 

Emmeline  held  back  her  needle  a  moment,  and 
looked  askance  at  her  brother,  to  watch  the  effect 
of  the  communication  upon  him.  The  least  spar 
kle  of  a  smile  played  along  his  lips  as  he  caught 
her  glance.  After  waiting  a  moment,  to  be  sure 
that  he  should  not  "  interrupt"  the  officious  friend, 
who  was  complacently  expecting  to  be  overwhelm 
ed  with  protestations  of  gratitude,  he  replied  : — 

"  I  am  much  obliged  to  you,  Mr.  Bloomvvell,  for 
the  friendly  and  spontaneous  interest  which  you 
seem  to  have  taken  in  my  affairs.  I  have  fully 
decided,  however,  upon  a  course  which  will  de 
prive  me  of  the  pleasure  of  availing  myself  of  the 
arrangement  you  propose." 

"  Why,  sir,  what  do  you  intend  to  do  ?"  said  the 
worthy  merchant,  almost  starting  from  his  seat  with 
astonishment. 

"  I  intend  to  devote  myself  to  the  study  of  the 
law." 

"  The  law  !  why,  how  is  this,  Mrs.  Maverick  1 
As  one  of  your  late  husband's  principal  creditors, 
I  have  had  opportunities  of  informing  myself  thor 
oughly  in  regard  to  your  means.  They  are  barely 
sufficient  to  feed  and  clothe  you  and  your  daughter 
with  common  decency.  Pray,  how  is  your  son  to 
obtain  the  expensive  education  of  a  lawyer  ?" 

"  I  will  tell  you,  Mr.  Bloomwell,"  said  Harry ; 
"  for  I  believe  something  better  than  the  motive 
of  a  vulgar  curiosity  prompts  your  inquiry.  I  have 
ascertained  that  I  can  pay  for  my  education  by 
copying  law-papers." 

"  But  you  ought  to  support  yourself,  sir ;  and 


WHICH    MAKES    THE    MAN?  105 

you  cannot  do  that  and  make  yourself  a  lawyer  at 
the  same  time.  Come,  Master  Harry,  you  will 
have  to  come  down  a  little  in  your  notions.  It 
will  do  very  well  for  young  men  of  expectations 
to  study  the  law,  but  you  should  content  yourself 
with  some  honest  employment  by  which  you  can 
get  an  immediate  living.  As  third  usher,  you  will 
receive  three  hundred  dollars,  out  of  which  you 
can  lay  by  a  hundred  a  year  for  a  rainy  day. 
Should  you  give  satisfaction  to  your  employer,  and 
should  the  second  usher  die  or  be  turned  away,  you 
will,  perhaps,  be  promoted  to  his  place,  and  get  six 
hundred.  The  first  usher  gets  twelve  hundred. 
Think  of  that,  sir !  By  industry  and  attention, 
you  may  in  time  get  to  be  first  usher.  Do  not  in 
dulge  the  foolish  notion,  Master  Henry,  that  a  law 
yer's  employment  is  more  genteel  than  a  school 
master's.  As  an  usher,  you  can  pay  your  way, 
and  lay  by  something.  As  a  student  at  law,  you 
will  be  an  encumbrance  to  your  family." 

"  Do  not  suppose,  Mr.  Bloomwell,"  replied 
Harry,  after  a  pause,  during  which,  by  a  severe 
effort,  he  subdued  the  irritability  of  his  nature — 
"  do  not  suppose  that  I  entertain  any  foolish  no 
tions  as  to  the  gentility  of  this  employment  or  of 
that.  A  young  man,  sir,  who  does  not  shrink  from 
going  to  market  in  the  day-time,  and  returning 
through  the  principal  streets  with  a  large  basket 
of  provender  upon  his  arm,  need  not  be  accused 
of  any  such  weakness.  But  my  tastes  and  ca 
pacities  lead  me  to  prefer  qualifying  myself  for  a 
lawyer,  to  entering  upon  any  other  pursuit.  Heav 
en  forbid,"  continued  Harry,  as  he  thought  of  Mr. 
Wainbridge,  "that  I  should  even  in  thought  dis-* 
parage  the  teacher's  vocation  !  It  requires,  how- 


106  WEALTH    AND    WORTH  J    OR, 

ever,  qualities,  moral  and  intellectual,  and,  I  may 
add,  constitutional,  which  I  do  not  possess  to  that 
degree  to  inspire  me  with  a  confidence  in  my  suc 
cess.  My  inclination  leads  me  unwaveringly  to 
the  study  of  the  law.  I  thank  you  for  your  offer, 
but  decline  it  positively." 

"  Your  inclination  will  lead  you,  I  dare  say,  my 
lad,  into  a  plenty  of  pretty  scrapes.  But  let  no 
one  say  that  I  haven't  done  my  duty  by  the  family. 
Don't  blame  rne  when  you  find  yourself  ruined. 
Don't  say  that  I  didn't  do  my  best  to  save  you." 

Harry  bowed  ;  and  Mr.  Bloomwell,  red  with  an 
ger,  took  up  his  hat  to  depart. 

"  You  have  missed  a  fine  chance,  sir,  of  getting 
a  comfortable  living,"  continued  Mr.  Bloomwell, 
as  he  took  hold  of  the  handle  of  the  door.  "I 
suppose  you  will  be  going  round  to  your  father's 
friends  before  long  with  a  subscription-paper  for 
your  relief.  Don't  come  to  me,  sir.  If  you  can't 
take  my  advice,  don't  come  to  me." 

Again  Harry  bowed,  slightly,  but  respectfully. 

"  This  isn't  the  first  time  I  have  met  with  in 
gratitude,"  resumed  the  indignant  visiter.  "  It 
isn't  the  first  time,  sir ;  but  we  shall  see  the  con 
sequences  of  your  headstrong,  self-willed  course." 

Harry  replied  only  with  another  of  his  frigid 
bows  ;  and  Mr.  Bloomwell,  stifling  his  passion  so 
far  as  to  say,  in  no  very  amiable  tones,  "  Good-by, 
madam  !"  quitted  the  house. 

Now  Bloomwell,  Christian  as  he  thought  he 
was,  went  away  positively  inimical  to  Harry.  He 
would  have  been  gratified  if  he  had  heard  soon 
afterward  that  the  young  man  had  been  taken  up 
for  passing  a  counterfeit  bill.  He  would  then 
have  had  the  satisfaction  of  saying — "  I  knew 


WHICH    MAKES    THE   MAN  ?  107 

just  how  it  would  be  ;  I  predicted  it !"  And  the 
pleasure  of  the  compliment  to  his  penetration 
would  have  outweighed  the  pain  that  he  might 
otherwise  have  felt  at  a  fellow-creature's  lapse 
into  sin.  Oh,  Bloomwell !  if  thou  wouldst  only 
look  somewhat  more  closely  into  that  complicate, 
badly-regulated  little  piece  of  mechanism,  thy  own 
heart,  thou  wouldst  see  that  thou  art  far  from  being 
a  saint. 

Another  incident,  which  happened  a  week  or 
two  afterward,  showed  Henry  Maverick,  by  bitter 
experience,  that  integrity  of  purpose  does  not  al 
ways  ensure  immediate  favor  and  success  in  this 
world.  He  had  succeeded  in  finding  a  lawyer, 
who,  in  consideration  of  his  services  as  a  copyist, 
was  willing  that  he  should  read  law  in  his  office. 
Harry  entered  upon  the  study  with  assiduity  and 
devotion  ;  and,  though  Mr.  Twist  was  rather  ex 
tortionate  in  his  draughts  upon  the  young  student's 
time,  yet,  as  the  labors  were  of  a  character  to  ini 
tiate  him  in  the  practical  forms  of  the  profession, 
Harry  always  fulfilled  them  with  cheerfulness. 
One  day,  as  he  went  into  Mr.  Twist's  room  to  re 
turn  a  deed  that  he  had  been  copying,  he  found 
there  Mr.  Bloomwell  and  the  elder  Mr.  Hard- 
worth.  Both  seemed  surprised  at  his  appearance, 
though  neither  spoke  to  him.  No  sooner  had  he 
left  the  room,  however,  than  Mr.  Hardworth,  who 
had  been  much  exasperated,  by  his  son's  stories, 
against  Harry,  made  an  unfavorable  remark  con 
cerning  him  to  Mr.  Twist.  Mr.  Bloomwell  de 
clared  that,  from  his  own  experience,  he  had  rea 
son  to  believe  that  Mr.  Hardworth  was  right  in 
his  estimate  of  the  young  man.  Imboldened  by 
this  confirmation,  Mr.  Hardworth  told  Twist  that 
.9 


108  WEALTH    AND    WORTH  J    OK, 

he  ought  not  to  have  such  a  fellow  in  his  office ; 
and  Twist  thereupon'promised  that  poor  Harry 
should  be  forthwith  dismissed. 

Now  Twist  did  not  believe  a  word  of  what  had 
been  said  against  the  young  student.  He  con 
sidered  Bloomwell  to  be  wanting  in  common  sense, 
and  knew  that  Hardworth  was  capable  of  gratify 
ing  his  prejudices  at  the  expense  of  his  honor  and 
honesty.  But  Bloomwell  had  just  confided  a  pro 
fitable  case  to  his  hands,  and  Hardworth  had  made 
him  his  agent  in  some  important  transactions. 
How  could  he  even  remotely  oflend  such  capital 
clients  by  neglecting  their  advice  ?  The  thing  was 
not  to  be  thought  of ;  and  so,  the  next  day,  Harry 
was  notified  that  it  was  no  longer  convenient  to 
Mr.  Twist  to  have  him  remain  in  his  office. 

From  Twist's  own  admissions,  Harry  learned 
to  whom  he  was  indebted  for  this  notification.  He 
felt  the  injustice  of  the  act,  for  the  lawyer  had 
agreed  that  he  should  remain  with  him  at  least  a 
year.  And  now  another  enemy  was  made — of 
Twist !  For,  be  sure,  that  when  a  man  has  done 
you  an  injury  or  an  injustice,  he  is  ever  afterward 
your  enemy,  simply  because  he  knows  that  you 
have  cause  to  be  his. 

Undismayed  by  rebuffs  like  this,  Harry  sought 
throughout  the  city  to  make  an  arrangement  with 
some  other  lawyer,  by  which  he  could  pay  for  his 
education  by  his  services.  Some  told  him  that  he 
was  too  young  for  the  study ;  others,  after  ques 
tioning  him,  said  they  could  not  think  of  receiving 
a  young  man  who  had  been  dismissed  by  "  broth 
er  Twist." 

At  length  he  knocked  at  a  door,  upon  which 
was  the  sign:  "LINLEY  TRANE,  ATTORNEY  AND 


WHICH  MAKES  THE  MAN  ?        109 

COUNSELLOR  AT  LAV/."  A  faint  "  Come  in"  was 
the  reply  to  his  knock,  and  entering,  he  found  him 
self  in  a  room  rilled  with  quite  an  extensive  library 
of  law  books,  and  in  the  presence  of  a  young  man 
of  rather  a  tall,  uncouth  figure,  who  sat  in  an  arm 
chair  with  his  long  legs  curled  about  each  other, 
and  his  uppermost  foot  swinging  to  and  fro,  while 
he  held  a  heavy  volume  upon  his  knees.  The 
face  of  the  lawyer  indicated  habits  of  abstrac 
tion  and  study  ;  for  it  was  "  sicklied  o'er  with  the 
pale  cast  of  thought."  His  dress  was  rather  rus 
ty,  and  his  thick  red  hair  looked  as  if  he  had  the 
trick  of  sitting  with  his  fingers  run  through  it  in 
front,  while  his  elbow  leaned  upon  the  table. 

"  Do  I  speak  to  Mr.  Trane  ?"  inquired  Harry, 
respectfully,  taking  off  his  hat. 

Mr.  Trane  swung  his  foot  with  rapidly  increas 
ing  impetuosity,  and  looked  steadfastly  in  the  ques 
tioner's  face  for  nearly  a  minute,  as  if  solving  a 
problem.  Then  abruptly  starting  up,  and  dropping 
his  book  upon  the  floor  in  the  movement,  he  point 
ed  to  a  chair,  and  said,  in  hurried  tones,  and  with 
rather  a  grotesque  attempt  at  ease  of  mariner,  "  Sit 
down — sit  down,  sir." 

Harry  obeyed  the  invitation  ;  and  the  lawyer, 
with  a  nervous  jerk  of  his  body,  resumed  his  seat, 
replaced  his  legs  in  their  old  position,  and  recom 
menced  the  oscillating  motion  of  the  uppermost 
one,  which  reminded  Harry,  by  the  looseness  with 
which  it  swung,  of  the  hammer  of  a  flail,  fastened 
by  a  thong  of  leather  to  the  handle.  After  a  brief 
silence,  Mr.  Trane  stammered  forth,  with  a  blush 
ing  face  :  "  Did  you  wish  to — speak — with  me, 
sir  ?" 

"  Here  is  a  rare  bird !"  thought  Harry — "  a  diffi- 
10 


110  WEALTH   AND   WORTH;    OR, 

dent  lawyer !  Is  it  possible  ?"  There  was  something 
in  the  man's  face,  however,  which  inspired  the  ob 
server  with  respect;  intelligence,  mingled  with  a 
child-like  simplicity,  meekness  with  intellectual 
vigor. 

"  I  have  come,"  said  Harry,  "  to  inquire  if  your 
business  is  such  that  I  could  be  of  any  service 
to  you  as  a  copyist.  I  do  not  ask  a  remuneration 
in  money,  but  merely  wish  the  privilege  of  read 
ing  law  under  your  supervision." 

"  Business  !"  stammered  forth  Mr.  Trane  ;  "  O, 
yes — plenty  of  business — that  is — no,  not  alto 
gether — but  hope  to  have — writs  to  fill,  and — copy 
ing  enough — too  much  work  for  you — ought  to 
have  a  good  salary — times  may  get  better  ;  but" — 

And  here  the  lawyer  came  to  a  full  stop  and 
blushed. 

"  I  see,"  said  Harry,  rising,  "  you  think  you  can 
not  afford  to  take  me  without  the  customary  fees  ; 
that  the  state  of  your  business  is  not  such  as  to 
warrant  it." 

"  Bless  you,  no,  sit  down,  sit  down,"  replied 
Mr.  Trane,  swinging  his  leg  with  unparalleled 
vigor  and  celerity.  "I  didn't  mean" — 

"  Well  ?" 

"  Pray  let  me  serve  you,  if  I  can." 

There  was  a  sincerity,  a  tenderness  in  the  tone, 
with  which  the  bashful  lawyer  uttered  these  sim 
ple  words,  that  went  to  Harry's  heart.  They 
formed  the  first  kind  greeting  that  he  had  encoun 
tered  in  his  rounds  that  day  ;  and  passing  his  hand 
hastily  across  his  eyes,  he  laid  down  his  hat,  and 
again  seated  himself.  The  lawyer  witnessed  his 
emotion,  and  was  painfully  embarrassed  by  it. 
The  swinging  leg  did  yeoman's  service  for  a  mo- 


WHICH  MAKES   THE  MAN?  Ill 

ment  or  two,  until  Harry,  taking  pity  upon  the 
agitation  of  its  owner,  broke  silence.  He  told  his 
whole  history  plainly  but  eloquently,  with  a  mi 
nuteness  which  seemed  to  excite  intense  interest 
in  the  mind  of  his  listener.  The  swinging  leg  be 
came  as  still  as  if  paralyzed.  The  head  was 
bent  forward,  in  an  attitude  of  the  closest  atten 
tion.  The  eyes  rilled  with  tears  ;  and  at  the  con 
clusion  of  the  narrative,  Mr.  Trane  abruptly  rose, 
grasped  his  young  visitor's  hand,  and  shook  it  vio 
lently  up  and  down  as  if  he  had  hold  of  a  pump- 
handle.  His  diffidence  melted  before  the  genial 
warmth  of  his  heart,  like  a  snow-wreath  in  the 
sun  ;  and  he  exclaimed  : 

"  How  rejoiced  I  am  you  happened  in  here ! 
Not  many  clients,  but  plenty  of  books  !  Jolly  times 
we  will  have  among  them !  Don't  know  a  soul  in 
this  great  city — am  all-fired  glad  to  see  you — have 
had  my  shingle  up  six  months,  and  but  one  client 
all  that  time — an  old  woman  :  she  came  to  inquire 
where  Lawyer  Hall's  office  was.  Give  us  your 
hand  again." 

Trane's  story  may  be  briefly  told.  He  came  to 
New  York  from  a  small  village  in  Connecticut. 
Being  entirely  self-educated,  and  somewhat  more 
ignorant  of  the  world  and  its  usages  than  a  clever 
city  lad  of  seven  years  of  age,  he  found  himself, 
to  use  a  familiar  phrase,  like  a  cat  in  a  strange 
garret.  His  external  intercourse  had,  all  his  life, 
been  with  the  plain,  honest  rustics  of  his  native 
village,  and  he  knew  no  other  phraseology  than 
theirs,  for  the  purposes  of  ordinary  conversation. 
But,  living  among  his  books  the  greater  part  of  his 
time,  he  could  at  will  retire  into  a  society  where 
high  thoughts  were  moulded  into  felicitous  Ian- 


112  WEALTH    AND    WORTH;    OR, 

guage,  and  where  rusticity  was  unknown.  Give 
him  a  pen,  and  he  could  converse  like  a  Chester 
field.  To  judge  him  from  his  spoken  language, 
you  would  say  that  he  was  ignorant  of  the  com 
monest  rules  of  grammar,  as  well  as  of  polished 
life.  He  had  devoted  himself  for  more  than  ten 
years  to  the  study  of  the  law,  having  pursued  it 
rather  with  the  enthusiasm  of  a  lover,  than  with 
the  practical  purposes  of  a  tradesman.  Having 
inherited  an  humble  patrimony,  he  spent  nearly  the 
whole  of  it  in  the  purchase  of  a  library ;  and, 
finally,  mustering  his  courage,  he  removed  to  New 
York,  and  was  admitted  to  the  bar.  He  seemed 
constitutionally  unfitted,  however,  for  the  active 
business  of  his  profession.  He  could  hardly  look 
a  strange  client  in  the  face  ;  and  though  armed 
with  precedents  upon  every  point  of  law,  and  pos 
sessing  far  more  learning  than  half  of  the  judges 
on  the  bench,  his  unconquerable  bashfulness  whol 
ly  incapacitated  him  as  an  advocate.  The  pertest 
pettifogger  could  abash  and  confound  him  ;  for  it 
is  easy  enough  for  a  fool  to  ask  more  questions  in 
a  minute,  than  a  wise  man  can  answer  in  a  life 
time. 

Such  was  the  individual  under  whose  direction 
Henry  Maverick  now  undertook  the  study  of  the 
law.  With  so  competent  an  instructer,  he  made  a 
thorough  and  rapid  progress,  becoming  soon  so 
deeply  interested  as  to  endanger  his  health  by  a 
too  constant  application.  On  he  went,  boldly  and 
steadily,  turning  neither  to  the  right  hand  nor  to 
the  left. 

At  home,  affairs  were  managed  with  tolerable 
success.  Mrs.  Maverick's  want  of  skill  in  finan 
ciering,  and  her  confused  notions  of  domestic 


WHICH    MAKES    THE    MAN  ? 


113 


economy,  occasionally  involved  the  family  in  em 
barrassments  ;  but  Emmeline  soon  took  the  lead 
in  household  matters,  and  proved  herself  a  frugal 
and  discreet  manager.  In  her  leisure  moments 
she  executed  embroidery-work  for  upholsterers, 
for  which  she  received  small  sums.  Mingo,  who 
had  served  all  his  life  as  a  groom,  was  found 
to  be  of  little  use  in  any  employments  within 
doors.  He  was  finally  so  far  instructed,  however, 
as  to  relieve  Harry  of  the  trouble  of  doing  the 
marketing.  The  most  laborious  part  of  the  old 
negro's  duties  consisted  in  protecting  Hotspur  from 
the  dog-killers. 


114  WEALTH   AND    WORTH;    OR, 


CHAPTER  IX. 

u  Oh,  never  despair  !  for  our  hopes  oftentimes 
Spring  as  swiftly  as  flowers  in  the  tropical  climes, 
Where  the  spot  that  was  barren  and  herbless  by  night, 
Is  waving  with  bloom  in  the  mom's  rosy  light." 

SAMUEL  LOVER. 

THREE  years  have  passed  since  the  occurrence 
of  the  scenes  described  in  our  last  chapter.  And 
where  now  is  Henry  Maverick  ?  It  is  a  cold  and 
gusty  day  in  winter.  The  snow  is  falling  fast. 
It  whirls  through  the  streets,  and  forms  around 
the  corners  in  cone-like  heaps  ;  and  then  it  is 
tossed  aloft  by  the  eddying  winds,  and  sifted,  till 
its  fine  frozen  particles  feel  like  needles  as  they 
sweep  in  the  face  of  the  passer-by. 

Notwithstanding  the  inclemency  of  the  weather, 
the  city  seems  all  astir.  The  shops  are  closed  as 
if  it  were  some  great  holyday.  Merry  groups  of 
young  men  are  buffeting  the  wind  and  the  snow 
on  every  side.  They  go  from  house  to  house, 
ring  the  bell,  enter,  remain  two  or  three  minutes, 
sip,  perhaps,  a  glass  of  wine,  and  then  issue  forth 
to  pass  through  the  same  rapid  ceremony  else 
where.  Some  are  in  carriages,  and  some  in  dash 
ing  phaetons.  The  ground  is  not  yet  quite  fit  for 
sleighing.  From  the  highest  to  the  humblest,  all 
seem  to  be  on  pleasurable  movements  intent ;  and 
the  very  fierceness  of  the  blast  and  the  blinding 
rush  of  the  snow  seem  but  to  furnish  additional 
subjects  for  hilarity  and  unchecked  mirth. 


WHICH    MAKES    THE    MAN?  115 

It  is  the  first  of  January,  and  all  the  male  por 
tion  of  the  population  of  the  city  are  paying  visits. 
On  this  day,  if  there  have  been  estrangements 
among  families  and  friends,  coldness  or  misunder 
standing,  an  opportunity  is  afforded  for  reconcili 
ation  and  the  renewal  of  old  ties.  It  is  a  day  of 
privilege  ;  a  day  when  even  misery  must  look  up 
and  smile,  and  poverty  have  good  cheer.  The 
custom  is  a  pleasant  one  ;  but  it  seems  to  be  con 
fined  to  New  York  and  Washington,  among  our 
American  cities.  Why  is  it  not  more  generally 
adopted  ? 

Said  I  that  all  are  looking  gay  and  happy  on 
this  occasion  ?  Nay ;  there  is  one,  a  young  man, 
who,  as  he  breasts  the  keen  blast,  and  tightens 
around  him  the  folds  of  his  old  cloak,  seems,  if 
we  may  judge  from  his  pale  and  anxious  face,  far 
from  being  on  the  way  to  make  a  visit  of  pleasure. 
Occasionally  his  lips  move,  as  if  pantomiming  the 
utterance  of  some  distressing  thought ;  and  then 
he  throws  open  his  cloak,  as  if  the  chilling  wind 
were  grateful  to  a  breast  which  felt  the  hot  war 
fare  of  griefs  within.  The  passers-by  do  not  no 
tice  him,  for  the  snow  falls  thick,  and  they  are 
occupied  with  their  own  gladdening  anticipations  ; 
but,  had  a  humane  man  observed  his  fine  features, 
upon  which  the  struggle  of  a  great  sorrow  was  re 
flected,  I  hope  he  would  have  been  incited  to  in 
quire  into  the  cause  of  the  youth's  affliction,  with 
the  purpose  of  alleviating  it  if  in  his  power. 

Crossing  the  Bowery  from  the  direction  of 
Broadway,  the  youth  passed  on  through  a  street, 
in  which  the  houses  were  small  and  dingy.  But 
even  here  the  festivities  of  the  anniversary  seem 
ed  to  be  faithfully  observed.  Hale-looking  laborers, 


116  WEALTH    AND   WORTH;    OR, 

young  mechanics,  and  apprentices  were  hurrying 
from  door  to  door ;  and,  at  the  windows,  might 
be  seen  now  and  then  bright  eyes  shining  through 
the  dimming  snow-flakes,  the  fair  owners  of  which 
were  evidently  laughing  at  the  busy  movements 
of  the  lords  of  creation  upon  that  stormy  day. 
Arriving  at  length  before  one  of  the  humblest 
domicils  in  the  street,  our  pedestrian  stopped  a 
moment,  shook  the  snow  from  his  cloak,  and 
knocked  it  from  his  feet,  and  then,  rapping  gently 
at  the  door,  turned  and  looked  up  through  the 
fleecy  atmosphere  as  if  he  would  seek  for  some 
last  sign  of  hope  in  the  freighted  clouds  that  rolled 
overhead. 

The  door  was  soon  opened  by  a  female  hand, 
and  entering,  he  suffered  himself  to  be  disencum 
bered  of  his  cloak  and  hat  by  the  attendant.  He 
then  passed  into  a  small  room,  whither  she  fol 
lowed.  A  few  thin  pine  sticks  upon  the  hearth 
appeared  to  have  been  just  kindled  into  a  blaze, 
for  the  room  was  cold  and  damp.  The  young  man, 
however,  did  not  seem  to  regard  this,  for  he  sank 
into  a  chair  in  a  corner  of  the  room  distant  from 
the  fire,  and  leaning  his  elbows  upon  a  painted 
pine  table,  which  formed  one  of  the  most  impor 
tant  articles  of  furniture  in  the  apartment,  dropped 
his  forehead  upon  his  hands  and  was  still.  The 
female  who  had  entered  was  young,  not  more  than 
sixteen,  apparently.  She  was  dressed  in  a  dark 
calico  gown,  without  ornaments  of  any  kind.  Her 
hair,  which  was  of  a  rich  brown,  was  plainly  part 
ed  and  drawn  up  behind,  displaying  a  small  but 
finely-shaped  head,  with  features  delicate,  but 
strongly  and  beautifully  outlined,  dark  eyes,  full 
of  a  deep  and  earnest  expression,  and  a  complex- 


WHICH   MAKES   THE   MAN  1  117 

ion  unblemished  and  pure,  though,  for  the  moment, 
a  little  pale.  Her  figure  was  not  above  the  ordina 
ry  height,  slim,  but  not  wanting  the  developments 
of  health  and  grace. 

Placing  a  chair  before  the  fire,  she  moved  to 
ward  the  table,  and  gently  displacing  the  hands 
of  the  young  man  from  his  forehead,  led  him  to 
the  seat  she  had  prepared. 

"  Your  hair  is  wet,  Harry,  and  your  collar. 
There  are  snow-flakes  yet  on  your  neck.  I  will 
get  a  brush  and  a  napkin.  You  have  exposed 
yourself  too  much." 

And  so  saying,  the  maiden  tripped  out  of  the 
room,  and  immediately  returning,  brushed  the  drops 
from  his  thick  locks,  and  wiped  dry  his  cheeks 
and  neck.  Then,  with  an  arm  thrown  round  his 
shoulders,  she  looked  a  moment  in  his  face,  and, 
with  her  soft  fingers  putting  back  the  heavy  moist 
curls  from  his  forehead,  kissed  him,  and  said : — 

"  What  is  the  matter,  Harry  ?  has  anything  hap 
pened  ?" 

"  I  have  met  with  no  success,"  replied  Henry 
Maverick :  "  the  pawnbrokers'  shops  are  all  closed. 
How  is  mother  ?" 

"  Decidedly  better.  The  fever  is  decreasing ; 
and  I  left  her  in  a  mild  sleep." 

"  Get  your  thick  shawl,  my  dear,  and  wrap  round 
you,  and  I  will  talk  with  you.  It  is  chilly." 

Emmeline  obeyed  ;  and  kneeling  with  one  hand 
upon  her  brother's  knee,  while  with  the  other  she 
replaced,  from  time  to  time,  the  scanty  brands  as 
they  fell  upon  the  hearth,  she  gave  him  her  atten 
tion. 

"  I  have  not  yet  told  you,  Emmeline,  of  my  ad 
ventures  yesterday.  Well !  I  called  first  on  old 


118  WEALTH    AND    WORTH;    OR, 

Van  Rapp  at  his  counting-room.  For,  seeing  it 
stated  in  the  newspapers  that  he  had  given  two 
hundred  dollars  the  week  before  to  Madame  Ca- 
rolli,  the  famous  Italian  cantatrice,  for  singing  a 
couple  of  songs  at  his  last  great  party,  I  foolishly 
imagined  that  he  might  be  generous  in  other  things. 
Besides,  Van  Rapp  had  known  our  father,  and  was, 
as  you  remember,  at  the  fete  which  we  had  at  Ea 
gles  wood  on  my  fourteenth  birth-day.  After  wait 
ing  for  nearly  an  hour,  I  obtained  an  audience. 
He  did  not  recognise  me  until  I  told  my  name,  and 
then  he  did  not  seem  much  pleased  at  the  recog 
nition.  I  briefly  told  him  what  I  wanted,  which 
was,  that  he  should  lend  me  two  hundred  dollars 
upon  my  acceptance  and  promise  to  repay  with 
interest,  the  moment  I  had  the  ability.  I  informed 
him  of  our  losses  by  the  fire  last  year — of  my  want 
of  success  in  obtaining  a  profitable  employment, 
compatible  with  my  studies,  and  finally,  of  mother's 
illness.  On  looking  up,  after  narrating  these  things, 
I  found  him  reading  a  newspaper  with  his  eye 
glass.  Without  saying  a  word  he  went  to  his  desk, 
took  out  two  half-eagles,  and  pushing  them  toward 
me,  said  :  '  There,  young  man  !  it  is  a  very  sad 
case,  no  doubt ;  but  that  is  the  best  I  can  do  for 
you.'  I  did  not  fling  them  in  his  face,  Emmeline. 
Nay — and  I  blush  as  I  think  of  it — so  far  did  a 
consciousness  of  our  necessities  constrain  me, 
that  I  said  :  '  You  will  allow  me  to  give  my  ac 
ceptance  for  this  sum  ?'  He  replied,  in  a  surly 
tone  :  '  Humbug!  I  want  none  of  your  accept 
ances.' — '  Then  I  want  none  of  your  money,'  I 
said,  and  left  the  counting-room.  As  I  stood  at 
the  top  of  the  stairs,  pressing  my  forehead  to  re 
call  where  I  had  intended  to  go  next,  I  heard  this 


WHICH    MAKES    THE    MAN?  119 

man  of  wealth  say :  '  Ten  dollars  saved,  is  ten 
dollars  earned.  I  hear  that  boy  of  Maverick's  is 
a  worthless  young  dog,  proud  and  lazy  as  an  In 
dian  in  harvest-time.  We  shall  hear  of  him  in 
some  bad  scrape  yet,  for  he  looked  me  in  the  eye 
as  if ' — I  did  not  listen  to  the  conclusion,  but  dart 
ed  into  the  street." 

"  And  on  whom,  brother,  did  you  call  next  ?" 
"  You  will  be  surprised  td  hear.     I  called  on 
Mr.  Bloomwell.     I  remembered  his  exhibition  of 
anger  at  the  time  I  declined  taking  his   advice  in 
regard  to  the  ushership  at  Mr.  Dunder's  school, 
but  I  believed  him  to  be  a  conscientious  and  pious 
man,  and  that  he  would,  from  principle,  if  not  from 
inclination,  forgive  me  for  disappointing  him  in  the 
arrangement  he  had  then  made  for  me.     As  I  en 
tered  his   counting-room,  he  looked  up  from  the 
desk  at  which  he  was  writing,  and  I  fancied  that  I 
.saw  a  gleam  of  satisfaction  flit  across  his  face,  as, 
laying  down  his  pen,  he  said  :     '  Mr.  Maverick,  I 
believe  ?'     I  bowed,  and,  drawing  near,  began  to 
communicate  the  request  I  had  made  to  Van  Rapp. 
As  the  object  of  my  visit  dawned  upon  him,  Bloom- 
well  fairly  rubbed  his  hands  with  exultation,  and 
when  I  concluded,  he  rose,  and  pacing  the  room, 
exclaimed  :   'I  knew  it  would  come  to  this  at  last! 
I  knew  it !     Didn't  I  predict  it  ?     Aren't  you  re 
penting  in  sackcloth  and  ashes  not  having  taken 
my  advice  ?    Look  here,  Craig,  and  you,  Thomas, 
and  you,  Peter,'  continued  he,  addressing  an  old 
clerk  and  two  younger  ones  :  '  Now,  Mr.  Maver 
ick,  have  the  goodness  to  tell,  for  the  benefit  of 
these  young  men,  what  I  advised  you  three  years 
ago,  and  how  everything  has  turned  out  as  I  said 
it  would,  from  your  not  taking  my  advice.' — '  I  will 


120  WEALTH   AND    WORTH  ;    OR, 

bid  you  a  very  good  morning,  Mr.  Bloomwell,'  said 
I,  folding  my  cloak  about  me  with  a  Cato-like  air, 
and  leaving  the  room,  without  waiting  to  see  the 
effect  of  my  remark.  Notwithstanding  the  bitter 
sense  of  poverty,  I  could  not  but  smile  at  the  old 
gentleman's  eagerness  to  claim  prophetic  honors." 

"  He  wanted  to  hold  you  up  in  the  light  of  a 
culprit,  Harry.  I  think  you  treated  him  as  you 
ought  to  have  done.  What  followed  ?" 

"  I  went  to  the  west  end  of  the  town,  with  the 
intention  of  calling  on  Mrs.  Sumpter,  who  used 
once  to  try  to  persuade  me  that  I  was  a  great  fa 
vorite  of  hers.  When  I  was  in  the  city  just  be 
fore  commencing  my  studies  at  Cambridge,  she 
would  manage  to  make  me  appear  in  Broadway 
with  Marian  Sumpter  almost  every  day.  Well  : 
I  reached  the  steps  of  her  splendid  mansion.  My 
heart  failed  me  as  I  thought  upon  my  object.  Ah, 
Emmeline  !  it  is  a  bitter,  bitter  thing  to  ask  a  fa 
vor,  where  you  are  not  sure  that  it  will  be  granted. 
As  I  stood  endeavoring  to  reconcile  myself  to  the 
task,  a  carriage  stopped  before  the  door,  and  the 
steps  being  let  down  by  a  footman,  a  young  man 
of  foreign  aspect,  with  enormous  moustaches,  and 
a  muff  daintily  strung  on  one  wrist,  issued  from 
the  interior  and  handed  out  a  lady.  The  young  man 
was  Augustus  Ermine,  and  the  lady  my  old  friend 
Marian.  They  are  probably  engaged.  This  trifling 
circumstance  decided  me  against  calling  ;  and  the 
best  of  the  day  being  wasted,  I  returned  home. 
Emmeline  !  slightly  as  I  have  hurried  over  these 
little  incidents,  they  have  made  me  older  than 
years  of  ordinary  life  could  do.  I  cannot,  cannot 
beg  !  I  would  rather  die.  A  stifling,  choking  sen 
sation  comes  over  me  as  I  attempt  the  utterance 


WHICH   MAKES    THE   MAN  ?  121 

of  importunity.  My  heart  sickens.  My  head 
whirls ;  and  I  feel  as  though  I  should  go  mad. 
And  yet  this  life  of  penury  !  These  sad  priva 
tions  !  This  cold  hearth !  The  small  duns  that 
beset  our  door  !  Torture  !" 

"  Nay,  Harry,  dear,  dear  brother !  all  will  yet  be 
well.  You  shall  not  be  any  more  subjected  to 
these  humiliations.  If  they  be  necessary,  it  shall 
be  for  me  to  bear  them.  Are  all  our  resources  at 
an  end  ?  Does  Mr.  Trane  know  your  wants  ? 
Have  you  consulted  with  him  ?" 

"  With  him  ?  Poor  fellow  !  He  lives  upon  a 
ship-biscuit  and  a  bowl  of  milk  a  day ;  sleeps  on 
the  sofa  in  his  office  ;  and  wears  the  clothes  which 
were  made  for  him  in  Connecticut  ten  years  ago, 
when  he  was  a  foot  shorter.  He  has  had  but 
three  clients  since  I  have  been  with  him — now 
more  than  three  years — and  to  those  he  lent 
money,  after  giving  them  legal  advice  gratuitously. 
Were  I  to  mention  my  necessities  to  him,  I  verily 
believe  he  would  sell  even  his  books  to  aid  me, 
though  parting  with  them  would  break  his  heart. 
No  !  I  cannot  intimate  a  suspicion  of  my  wants  to 
him.  Try  again,  Emmeline." 

"  Do  you  remember,  the  day  we  left  Eagles- 
wood,  your  telling  me" — 

"  Hark !  There  is  a  rap  at  the  door.  It  must 
be  that  unhappy-looking  apothecary's  boy  with  his 
bill  again.  He  will  be  the  death  of  me.  I  could 
once  look  boldly  in  the  face  of  any  man,  whether 
prince  or  peasant.  Now  I  am  abashed  before  a 
sickly  boy.  He  raps  again.  Go,  Emmeline,  and 
tell  him — No,  no !  Do  not  treat  him  with  unkind- 

jss — poor  lad ! — it  is  his  vocation.  And  melan- 
sly  enough  it  must  be  to  be  sent  out  in  such 
11 


122  WEALTH    AND    WORTH  J    OR, 

weather  on  so  forlorn  an  errand — we  may  spare 
him  our  harsh  words  !" 

Before  Harry  had  finished  giving  vent  to  these 
gloomy  anticipations,  Emmeline  had  opened  the 
door.  A  ruddy-cheeked  little  girl,  comfortably 
clad,  thrust  in  her  head,  which  was  almost  hidden 
in  a  thick  black  hood,  well  powdered  with  snow, 
and  presenting  Emmeline  a  light  packet,  carefully 
enclosed  in  paper,  and  neatly  pinned,  exclaimed : 
"  O,  Miss  Emmeline,  I  wish  you  a  happy  new  year. 
Here's  something  for  you." 

"  Is  it  you,  Susan  Dale  ?  A  happy  new  year, 
my  dear.  Come  in,  and" — Emmeline  would  have 
added  "  dry  your  feet,"  but  a  regard  to  veracity 
compelled  her  to  cut  short  her  invitation,  as  she 
looked  in  at  the  dying  embers  on  the  hearth. 

"  Oh,  no,  Miss  Emmeline — not  now.  Such  fun 
as  we  are  having  at  our  house  !  Uncle  Moses  has 
come.  He  is  a  gardener,  and  brought  those  flow 
ers  from  his  hot-house  to  mother ;  and  says  she, 
I'll  send  them  to  Miss  Emmeline,  who  is  so  fond 
of  them,  and  who  taught  Sue  the  pretty  songs  she 
sings  ;  and,  says  she,  Sue,  tell  Miss  Emmeline  I 
shall  be  proud  and  happy  to  see  her  over  here,  for 
I  know  she  makes  allowances  for  plain  folks.  And, 
says  uncle  Moses,  Run,  Sue,  and  be  back  before  I 
can  kiss  you  twice.  And  here  I  am,  Miss  Emme 
line  ;  and  now  you  must  come  along  with  me. 
Such  lots  of  lemonade  and  cake  !  O  my  !" 

With  such  velocity  did  the  little  creature  de 
liver  her  message,  that  she  was  quite  out  of  breath 
at  the  close.  Emmeline  stooped  down,  kissed  her 
fresh,  cool  cheek,  and  telling  her  to  thank  mamma 
and  Uncle  Moses  for  the  bouquet,  and  to  express 
her  regret  that  she  could  not  come  over,  she  open- 


WHICH   MAKES   THE   MAN  ?  123 

ed  the  door  for  her,  and  saw  her  spring  off  into 
the  snow  and  run  home  like  a  young  antelope. 

"  Does  this  look  like  anything  from  an  apothe 
cary's  shop,  brother  ?"  said  Emmeline,  as  she  re 
moved  the  paper,  and  disclosed  a  rare  collection  of 
hot-house  flowers.  "  What  a  beautiful  japonica! 
And  the  roses,  and  the  geranium,  how  fragrant ! 
And  here  are  laurel,  and  laurustinus,  and  orange- 
blossoms,  and  myrtle,  and  eglantine — is  it  not  a 
sweet  new  year's  present  from  little  Susan — a 
present  of  good  omen  ?" 

They  were  the  first  that  Emmeline  had  seen  for 
long,  long  months,  and  as  she  gazed  on  them  with 
a  little  of  her  old  girlish  delight,  and  remembered 
the  happy  hours  she  used  to  spend  in  the  green 
house  at  Eagleswood,  something  very  like  a  tear 
glistened  in  her  eye ;  but  it  sprang  from  tender 
ness  rather  than  from  regret. 

"  They  will  freeze  and  wither  in  this  cold  room, 
Emmeline.  How  the  snow  sifts  against  the  win 
dow-sills  !" 

"  I  will  take  them  up  stairs  into  mother's  cham 
ber.  They  are  so  fresh  they  must  be  wholesome. 
She  loves  flowers."  And  so  saying,  Emmeline  quit 
ted  the  apartment,  but  soon  returned,  and  said : 
"  She  is  sleeping  tranquilly,  and  seems  much  bet 
ter  than  she  was  yesterday.  Sally  is  with  her. 
To  come  back  to  what  we  were  talking  about, 
Harry.  Have  you  forgotten  the  offer  of  the  hon 
est  butcher,  who" — 

"  Another  knock  !  That  must  certainly  be  the 
apothecary's  boy.  I  thought  he  would  come  at  last." 

"  A  wager  it  is  not  the  apothecary's  boy,"  said 
Emmeline,  as  she  ran  to  open  the  front  door. 

She  was  right  in  her  anticipation.     But  who 


124  WEALTH    AND    WORTH;    OR, 

may  these  visitors  be  1  One  is  a  stout,  round- 
faced  yeoman,  wearing  a  thick  blanket-cloth  sur- 
tout,  with  big  pearl  buttons ;  and  the  other  is  a 
well-grown  lad,  dressed  in  much  the  same  style, 
and  formed  after  much  the  same  model.  They 
are  Sim  Lewis,  the  butcher,  and  his  son  John. 

"  Perhaps  you  don't  remember  me,  Miss  Mav 
erick,"  said  Sim  ;  "  but  I  can  recollect  you  from 
the  time  you  were  so  high.  I  am  Sim  Lewis, 
that  used  to  bring  meat  to  Eagleswood,  and  this 
is  John  Lewis,  my  son." 

Turning  round  as  he  concluded  this  speech, 
Sim  saw,  much  to  his  indignation,  that  John,  with 
his  hat  still  on,  was  staring  as  if  bewildered  at 
Miss  Maverick.  Taking  him  by  the  ear,  the  father 
exclaimed  :  "  John  Lewis  !  when  will  you  learn 
manners,  John  Lewis  ?  Pick  up  your  hat,  John 
Lewis.  A  green  lad,  miss,  but  he  has  never  seen 
much  of  city  life.  And  how  is  Mister  Henry  ? 
And  how's  your  ma'am  ?" 

Emmeline  was  moved  to  an  almost  superstitious 
surprise  at  this  encounter.  She  had  just  been 
upon  the  point  of  reminding  Harry  of  the  worthy 
butcher's  offer  of  assistance  on  their  leaving  Ea 
gleswood.  And  before  she  had  fully  given  utter 
ance  to  the  thought,  the  very  man,  whom  she  had 
not  seen  for  more  than  three  years,  stood  before 
her  !  Pointing  to  some  nails,  whereon  they  might 
hang  their  wet  outside  garments,  she  threw  open 
the  parlor  door,  and  said  :  "  Brother  Harry,  here 
is  our  old  friend  Lewis,  with  his  son." 

"  Master  Harry,  it  is  good  for  sore  eyes  to  see 
you  again,"  said  Sim,  advancing  to  receive  Harry's 
cordial  greeting ;  "  this  is  John  Lewis,  my  son — 
my  son,  John  Lewis — can't  you  shake  hands,  John 


WHICH    MAKES    THE    MAN  ?  125 

Lewis  1  A  little  awkward,  Mister  Maverick,  but 
he  will  mend.  Smooth  down  your  hair,  John  Lew 
is." 

"  How  did  you  find  out  where  we  lived,  my 
good  friend  ?"  asked  Harry. 

"  Why,  whom  should  I  meet  at  the  stable, 
round  in  Madison-street,  but  old  Mingo,  with  Hot 
spur.  Says  I,  General,  you  are  just  the  man  I 
want  to  see,  for  hang  me  if  I  haven't  tried  to  find 
out  where  your  old  master's  family  are  living, 
every  time  I  have  been  in  New  York  for  the  last 
three  years,  and  you're  the  first  man  I've  met  that 
can  tell  me.  And  so  Mingo  showed  me  and  John 
Lewis  the  way  here,  and  here  we  are." 

At  this  point  of  the  conversation,  Sim  appeared 
to  be  suddenly  struck  with  some  peculiarity  either 
in  the  atmosphere  of  the  room,  or  the  appearance 
of  his  friends  ;  for  he  started  up,  looked  at  the  few 
fast  fading  coals  upon  the  hearth,  then  at  Emme- 
line's  shawl ;  then  drew  his  hand  across  his  eyes  ; 
then  thrust  both  hands  into  his  pockets,  as  if  wish 
ing  to  do  something,  but  perplexed  as  to  the  man 
ner  of  doing  it.  Finally,  ejaculating  "  John  Lew 
is  !"  he  led  the  way  toward  the  door  into  the  en 
try.  John  Lewis  followed.  A  deal  of  whisper 
ing  was  heard,  and  then  the  front  door  opened 
and  closed,  and  Sim  re-entered  the  parlor  alone. 

"  Now,  Mr.  Henry,"  said  he,  "  let's  attend  to  a 
little  bit  of  business,  which  we  will  soon  get  off 
our  minds.  It's  only  putting  your  signature  to 
this  slip  of  paper." 

Harry  read  as  follows  : — 

"  $250  New  York,  Jan.  1st,  183— 

"  For  value  received,  I  promise  to  pay  Simeon 
11* 


126  WEALTH    AND    WORTH  ;    OR, 

Lewis  or  order  the  sum  of  two  hundred  and  fifty 
dollars,  as  soon  as  convenient." 

Harry,  for  a  full  minute,  could  only  reply  to 
this  delicate  piece  of  generosity  by  covering  his 
eyes,  and  remaining  silent. 

"  Come,  come,  Mister  Henry,"  said  Sim ;  "  it 
is  no  great  affair  after  all,  and  I  am  pretty  sure  I 
shall  be  the  gainer  in  the  end ;  so  you  see  it  is  a 
bit  of  a  speculation  on  my  part — selfishness,  pure 
selfishness — note-shaving  and  all  that  sort  of  thing. 
You  see  I  don't  want  to  have  my  money  lying  idle, 
and  so — ha,  ha, ha! — isn't  it  so,  Miss  Emmeline  ?" 
And  Sim  very  strangely  concluded  his  jocularity, 
by  taking  out  his  great  calico  pocket  handkerchief, 
and  wiping  his  eyes. 

"  Lewis,  I  accept  your  generous  proffer,"  said 
Harry ;  "  for  I  confidently  anticipate  being  able 
to  repay  the  loan  ;  but  the  kindness,  the  generosi 
ty,  which  prompted  it — they  cannot  be  repaid  by 
gold.  The  only  coin  which  can  be  returned  for 
them  is  gratitude,  respect,  affection,  and  these  are 
yours  already.  We  are  truly  in  extreme  need,  as 
you  seem  to  be  aware.  Last  winter  we  lost  by 
fire  all  our  furniture,  and  some  articles  of  jewellery, 
to  which  we  had  looked  forward  as  a  resort  in  a 
moment  of  exigence.  Long  before  that,  we  had 
been  obliged  to  break  in  upon  the  little  capital 
which  had  been  invested  for  us.  Three  or  four 
months  since,  our  mother  was  taken  seriously  ill, 
and  we  have  paid  heavy  doctor's  bills  for  her 
treatment.  Gradually  our  resources  have  failed, 
until  yesterday,  after  paying  the  rent  that  was  due 
for  the  last  quarter,  I  found  our  funds  so  low,  that 
I  was  obliged  to  suffer  a  load  of  wood  to  be  earn- 


WHICH   MAKES    THE   MAN?  127 

ed  away  after  I  had  ordered  it,  because  I  was  un 
able  to  pay  for  it  in  cash.  Well,  Lewis  ;  I  thought 
I  would  call  upon  some  of  the  rich  gentlemen, 
•whom,  in  our  prosperity,  we  thought  friends,  and 
ask  them  to  loan  me  a  hundred  or  two  dollars  upon 
my  note.  I  called  on  two,  for  whom  I  knew  my 
father  had  often  raised  thousands  of  dollars  at  a 
time,  and  made  known  my  request.  You  have 
anticipated  the  result.  Yes ;  one  of  them  refused 
me,  and  the  other  was  impertinent.  But  how  glad 
I  am  to  be  under  obligations  to  you  rather  than  to 
them!  Ah,  Lewis  !  Worth  is  better  than  wealth — 
ay,  and  richer — it  feels  richer,  and  does  more  gen 
erous  deeds.  Next  month,  Lewis,  I  shall  be  ad 
mitted  to  practise  at  the  bar,  and  then  I  hope  to 
begin  to  make  a  living." 

"  Never  worry  about  this  little  matter,"  said 
Sim,  handing  over  a  roll  of  bills  ;  "  there's  a  plen 
ty  more  of  the  same  kind  in  the  Butchers'  and 
Drovers' !  Take  your  leisure  as  to  paying  it  back. 
The  longer  the  interest  runs  on,  the  better  for 
me." 

Harry  signed  the  note,  and,  as  he  did  so,  re 
marked  :  "  But,  tell  me,  Lewis,  how  you  happen 
ed  to  find  out  that  we  were  in  want.  Did  Mingo 
tell  you  ?" 

"  Far  from  it.  The  fact  is,  there's  a  clerk  of 
old  Bloomwell's  at  the  house  where  I'm  stopping, 
and,  as  I  have  made  it  a  point  to  inquire  of  your 
•whereabouts  of  everybody  I  met,  I  happened  to 
ask  him  last  night  if  he  knew  you,  and  he  told  me 
about  the  scene  in  the  counting-room  ;  and  then, 
as  luck  would  have  it,  this  morning  I  met  the  gen 
eral.  But  where's  John  Lewis  ?  By  the  way, 
Mr.  Harry,  John  Lewis  is  to  open  a  provision-store 


128  WEALTH    AND   WORTH  ;   OR, 

round  the  corner  next  week,  and  you  must  do  me 
the  favor  to  buy  your  feed  of  him.  He  can  charge 
it  all  to  my  account,  you  know,  and  we  can  settle 
for  it  three  or  four  years  hence." 

"  Lewis,  you  are  placing  me  under  endless  ob 
ligations." 

"  Oh,  no — no  such  thing  !  Besides,  what  if  I 
am  ?  A'n't  I  the  gainer  ?  But  here  comes  John 
Lewis !" 

Looking  out  of  the  window,  Harry  saw  a  large 
hand-sled,  pulled  by  a  man,  followed  by  John 
Lewis,  stop  before  the  door.  It  was  filled  with 
wood,  nicely  split,  which,  under  the  direction  of 
John  Lewis,  was  soon  transferred  to  the  little  dark 
closet  under  the  entry  stairs.  Harry  and  Emme- 
line  could  only  look  at  each  other  and  then  at  the 
worthy  butcher  ;  and,  as  they  did  so,  the  eyes  of 
all  three  filled  with  tears,  which  told  for  two  of 
them  more  eloquent  thanks  than  all  the  fine  phrases 
which  language  could  frame.  As  for  Sim,  he  al 
most  blubbered,  although  he  tried  to  make  it  ap 
pear  as  if  he  were  laughing  all  the  while  ;  order 
ing  about  John  Lewis,  and  occasionally  cuffing 
him  to  give  vent  to  his  surplus  emotion. 

A  merry,  bright  fire  was  soon  blazing  on  the 
hearth,  imparting  an  aspect  of  rare  cheerfulness 
to  the  little  room — the  more  grateful  because  of 
the  snow-storm  without.  Emmeline  went  up  stairs 
to  see  how  her  mother  was,  and  returned  with  the 
agreeable  news  that  she  had  waked  up,  and  was 
wonderfully  better,  and  had  insisted  that  her 
daughter  should  go  down  in  the  parlor  to  enter 
tain  their  friends.  The  small  party  drew  up  their 
chairs  around  the  cheerful  blaze. 

>•'  And  how  are  all  the  good  people  of  the  vil- 


WHICH    MAKES   THE    MAN?  129 

lage,  Lewis  ?"  asked  Harry.  "  How  is  Mr.  Wain- 
bridge  ?  and  how  is  Ralph  Armstrong  ?" 

"  Why,  Mr.  Wainbridge,  I'm  afraid,  is  but  poor 
ly,  sir.  They  say  he  has  heard  from  England  of 
his  wife's  having  married  an  English  lord,  and  of 
his  daughter's  being  sent  to  France  to  a  convent. 
He  sent  out  by  one  of  the  steamships  last  summer 
a  thousand  dollars,  which  he  had  saved  to  get  his 
family  over  to  this  country,  but  little  good  has  it 
done,  for  he  has  heard  nothing  about  it  since,  until 
the  other  day  the  news  came  that  the  money  had 
been  accepted,  but  that  the  woman  was  to  be  mar 
ried  again." 

"  Poor  Wainbridge !  I  fear  the  sad  news  will 
unman  him  quite  ;  but  I  hope  it  will  prove  untrue. 
It  must  be  untrue,  if  his  wife  is  the  woman  he  has 
described  to  me,"  said  Harry. 

"  Oh,  I  have  no  doubt  it  is  untrue,"  added  Em- 
meline. 

"  He  is  very  anxious  to  go  out  to  England  to 
inquire  into  the  state  of  things,  I  believe,"  added 
Lewis  ;  "  but  he  hasn't  the  means  quite  yet.  His 
scholars  have  dropped  off  one  by  one,  and  he 
finds  money  come  in  slowly.  The  poor  man's 
health  seems  to  be  giving  way  under  his  anxiety." 

"  How  I  wish  that  I  could  assist  him  !"  sighed 
Emmeline. 

"  As  for  Ralph  Armstrong,"  resumed  Lewis, 
"  he  has  got  a  place  on  the  Mohawk  and  Hudson 
railroad.  He  attends  to  the  locomotives — cleans 
them  out — and  tinkers  them  when  they  want 
mending." 

"  Ralph  deserves  a  better  place,  and  he  will 
have  it  yet,  I  do  not  doubt,  as  soon  as  his  employ 
ers  find  out  his  talents,"  said  Harry. 


130  WEALTH   AND    WORTH  ;   OR, 

"Mary  Brudenel — is  she  well?"  asked  Emme- 
line. 

"  Yes,  and  as  pretty  as  ever,"  answered  Sim. 
"They  do  say  that  poor  Ralph  is  over  head  and 
ears  in  love  with  her,  but  I  am  thinking  he  aims 
too  high." 

"  A  young  man  of  Ralph's  worth  cannot  aim  too 
high,"  said  Harry. 

"  And  how  do  the  Hardworths  get  on  at  Eagles- 
wood  ?"  inquired  Emmeline. 

"  Oh,  very  fast  indeed,"  replied  Lewis,  laugh 
ing  :  "  Master  Ravenstone,  having  nothing  else  to 
do,  has  managed  to  quarrel  with  almost  everybody 
in  the  village,  and  as  ma'  and  pa'  take  his  part,  there 
is  not  much  love  felt  for  any  of  them.  You  re 
member  the  old  summer-house  just  back  of  the 
new  one  ?  Well :  he  has  covered  the  floor  with 
tanners'  bark,  and  turned  it  into  a  cock-pit ;  and 
such  a  set  of  rowdies,  with  long  hair  plastered 
over  the  left  eye,  and  big  whiskers,  as  he  brings 
up  with  him  every  week  from  the  city,  you  never 
saw  at  a  race-course.  One  of  them — a  count  Fid 
dle  Faddle,  or  some  such  name — is  said  to  be  go 
ing  to  marry  Miss  Arabella.  He  wears  curls  down 
his  neck  like  a  woman,  and  a  tuft  on  his  chin  ; 
and  looks  to  me  just  like  that  fellow  who  was  tried 
last  year  for  forgery,  and  sent  to  Sing-Sing." 

As  Harry  was  musing  upon  the  news  that  Lew 
is  had  been  communicating,  another  knock  was 
heard  at  the  door. 

"  Is  that  the  apothecary's  boy,  think  you  ?" 
asked  Emmeline,  archly. 

"  If  it  be,  pray  ask  him  in  to  warm  himself," 
said  Harry,  smiling  ;  "  for,  thanks  to  Lewis,  I  can. 


WHICH    MAKES    THE    MAN  1  131 

now  not  only  pay  the  lad  his  bill,  but  give  him  a 
shilling  for  his  trouble." 

The  door  was  opened,  and  a  young  man,  who 
was  not  the  apothecary's  boy,  inquired  for  Mr. 
Henry  Maverick. 

"  Walk  in,  sir — my  brother  is  in  the  parlor — let 
me  take  your  cloak,"  said  Emmeline,  who  had 
never  before  seen  the  visiter. 

The  young  stranger  bent  a  quick-scanning  gaze 
upon  her,  and  started,  much  as  Benjamin  West 
might  have  done,  when  he  first  saw  the  statue  of 
the  Apollo.  There  was  something  professional  in 
his  rapid  but  admiring  survey  of  her  face  and 
figure. 

"  Do  not  trouble  yourself,  Miss  Maverick.  Let 
my  cloak  and  cap  lie  here.  What  a  snow-storm !" 

Emmeline  threw  open  the  parlor  door ;  and 
another  guest  was  added  to  the  circle. 


132  WEALTH    AND   WORTH  ;   OR, 


CHAPTER  X. 

"  Make  fast  the  doom  ;  heap  wood  upon  the  fire ; 
Draw  in  your  stools,  and  pass  the  goblet  round  ; 
And  be  the  prattling  voice  of  children  heard. 
Now  let  us  make  good  cheer." 

HENRY  TA.YLOB. 

THE  new  comer  was  a  youth,  who,  to  judge 
from  his  appearance,  had  not  seen  more  than 
eighteen  winters.  His  clothes  were  homely  in 
their  fabric,  but  he  seemed  to  wear  them  with  a 
nameless  grace.  In  stature  he  was  slightly  be 
low  the  ordinary  height,  and  compactly  and  sym 
metrically  framed.  His  features  had  that  charm, 
which  springs  from  intelligence  and  frankness ; 
and  their  outline,  though  not  so  healthfully  filled 
out  as  it  had  been  and  might  be  again,  was,  if  not 
handsome,  marked  with  character  and  spirit. 

"You  have  forgotten  me,  Mr.  Maverick?"  said 
the  youth,  advancing  and  extending  his  hand. 

"  Indeed,  I  cannot  at  this  moment  recall  where 
or  when  I  have  seen  you ;  but  you  are  welcome 
nevertheless." 

"  Have  I  then  altered  so  much  in  four  years  V 

"  Ah !  now  you  turn  to  the  light,  I  trace  a  famil 
iar  cast  of  features.  But  it  was  a  lady,  to  whom 
— excuse  my  dulness.  It  is  Theodore  Clare !" 

"  The  same." 

"  You  are  heartily  welcome.  This,  Theodore, 
is  my  sister  ;  a  clever  girl  enough,  named  Emme- 


WHICH  MAKES  THE  MAN?        133 

line — and  this  is  my  friend,  Mr.  Lewis — and  this, 
Mr.  Lewis  junior." 

Emmeline  did  not  refuse  the  hand  that  was 
eagerly  proffered  by  the  youth,  in  ratification  of 
the  acquaintance. 

It  is  a  habit,  peculiar  to  Americans,  to  shake 
hands  when  they  are  introduced  ;  and  Sim  Lewis 
was  always  forward  to  do  honor  to  a  national  cus 
tom.  "  Servant,  sir — happy  to  know  you,"  said 
he,  extending  what  he  was  wont  to  call  his  "  flip 
per,"  and  grasping  Theodore's  hand  till  it  felt  as 
if  squeezed  in  a  vice.  Fearing  that  the  habit  might 
run  in  the  family,  and  that  Mr.  Lewis  junior  might 
give  him  an  equally  hard  grip,  Theodore  was  care 
ful  to  get  the  advantage  of  an  outside  hold,  and 
then  shook  hands  with  an  energy  which  made 
Mr.  John  Lewis,  in  spite  of  his  tough  muscles, 
wince  and  bend  with  the  pressure. 

"  How  you  have  grown  since  I  saw  you,  Theo 
dore  !  I  should  not  have  known  you  except 
through  your  likeness  to  your  sister." 

Why  did  a  slight,  internal  sigh,  imperceptible 
to  all  but  himself,  rise  from  Harry's  breast  as  he 
uttered  this  allusion  ?  He  had  passed  hardly  two 
days,  in  his  life,  with  the  Clares — had  not  seen 
Ellen  more  than  three  or  four  different  times — and 
had  not  heard  of  the  family  for  more  than  three 
years.  But  now,  all  intervening  memories,  whether 
dark  or  bright,  rolled  up  out  of  sight,  like  a  vapor 
ous  curtain,  and  disclosed  vividly  to  his  spiritual 
eyes  the  little  cottage  at  Capeville,  standing  in 
the  light  of  a  fresh  summer  morning — the  green 
fields  and  the  waving  trees — and  Ellen  Clare,  with 
the  plaid  scarf  about  her  shoulders,  and  the  sim 
ple  straw  bonnet  falling  back  from  her  head,  and 
12 


134  WEALTH   AXD   AVORTH  J   OR, 

in  her  hand  the  basket  of  strawberries  which  she 
had  been  gathering.  Then  he  saw  her  in  another 
mood.  He  recalled  the  circumstances  of  his  last 
visit  to  her  home — the  arrival  of  the  messenger 
with  sad  news — the  hasty  and  melancholy  fare 
well  to  the  family — and  Ellen's  last  glance  of 
sympathy,  regret,  and — might  he  add,  a  still  ten 
derer  emotion  ?  No  !  It  was  insane  vanity  to  at 
tribute  it  to  her.  How  full  of  maiden  propriety, 
dignity,  and  hospitality  had  been  her  demeanor ! 

•'  Your  mother  and  Edwin  are  well,  I  hope  ?" 
continued  Harry.  "  And  Ellen — she,  I  suppose, 
is — married  by  this  time  ?" 

Harry's  smile,  as  he  put  the  last  interrogatory, 
was  a  decided  failure. 

"  My  mother,  I  am  sorry  to  say,"  replied  The 
odore,  casting  down  his  eyes,  "  is  no  more  among 
us  ;  she  left  this  life  about  two  years  since,  hav 
ing  contracted  a  mortal  fever  from  attendance  in 
the  sick  chamber  of  a  dying  friend.  Edwin,  soon 
after  graduating  at  Cambridge,  accepted  a  promis 
ing  invitation  to  go  out  to  Canton  as  clerk  for 
Cushwin  &  Co.  Did  you  not  have  a  letter  from 
him  before  he  left  V 

"  No." 

"  I  am  quite  sure  he  wrote  you.  We  have  not 
heard  from  him  now,  for  almost  eighteen  months. 
As  for  Ellen"— 

Harry  here  moved  his  chair  a  little  toward  the 
speaker. 

"  She  is  still  single,  and,  I  have  reason  to  be 
lieve,  quite  well." 

From  the  conversation  which  then  ensued,  and 
which  was  resumed,  at  intervals,  during  the  day 
and  evening,  Harry  learned  further,  that  the  Clares 


WHICH  MAKES  THE  MAN?        135 

had  lost  their  little  property  through  the  failure  of 
a  bank  ;  that  they  had  been  obliged  to  give  up  the 
cottage,  and  it  was  now  occupied  by  a  respectable 
old  Methodist  clergyman,  named  Williams,  in 
whose  family  Ellen  boarded.  She  supported  her 
self  by  braiding  straw  for  bonnets.  For  nearly 
three  years,  Theodore  had  been  in  the  employ 
ment  of  Messrs.  Savill  &  Dunn,  carvers  and  gild 
ers,  near  India  wharf  in  Boston.  On  account  of 
his  superior  skill  in  executing  carved  work  he  had 
received  liberal  wages,  which,  at  Ellen's  instiga 
tion,  he  saved  up  with  the  view  of  visiting  Italy, 
for  the  purpose  of  studying  the  art  of  sculpture. 
At  length  he  found  a  good  opportunity  of  sailing 
for  Leghorn.  The  owner  of  the  brig  "  John  Han 
cock,"  was  willing  to  have  him  pay  for  his  pas 
sage  by  carving  a  new  figure-head  for  the  vessel ; 
and,  in  this  way,  Theodore  had  saved  a  principal 
item  in  his  contemplated  expenses.  The  brig  was 
to  take  in  a  part  of  her  cargo  at  New  York,  and 
thus  was  his  present  visit  accounted  for.  On  the 
day  of  his  departure  from  Boston,  Ellen  had  in 
sisted  upon  adding  a  hundred  dollars  to  his  little 
hoard — an  amount  which  she  had  saved  from  the 
earnings  of  two  years.  She  had  also  given  him 
Henry  Maverick's  address  in  New  York — a  piece 
of  information  which  she  had  obtained  from  a  let 
ter  written  by  Harry,  shortly  after  leaving  Eagles- 
wood,  to  Edwin. 

As  soon  as  these  particulars  had  been  elicited 
from  Theodore  Clare,  Mr.  John  Lewis  was  seen 
to  take  from  his  coat-pocket  a  huge  slice  of  gin 
gerbread,  and  begin  gnawing  upon  it  with  intense 
relish. 


136  WEALTH    AND    WORTH  ;    OR, 

"  John  Lewis  !  John  Lewis  !  I  am  ashamed 
of  you,"  said  Sim,  twitching  him  by  the  coat. 

"  Why,  dad,  I'm  hungry,"  muttered  John  Lew 
is,  opening  his  eyes  till  they  seemed  almost  as 
big  as  saucers. 

"  'Dad  /'  how  often  have  I  told  you  not  to  call 
me  dad,  you  big,  overgrown  booby?  A  pretty  fel 
low  you  to  set  up  a  provision-store  !  Why,  one 
would  think,  to  see  you  go  into  that  gingerbread 
with  such  a  looseness,  that  you  hadn't  been  wean 
ed,  John  Lewis  !" 

j^  "  Indeed,  Lewis,"  exclaimed  Harry,  "  it  is  no 
wonder  that  John  is  hungry ;  for  it  is  past  three 
o'clock,  and  I  had  forgotten  to  make  any  arrange 
ments  for  dinner.  But  sit  still,  and  hear  what  I 
have  to  propose.  We  will  have  dinner  here.  Em- 
meline  shall  cook  for  us.  I  hear  Mingo  down 
stairs  talking  to  Hotspur.  He  shall  go  and  get  us 
some  oysters  and  celery,  and  a  tender-loin  of  beef, 
and  then,  with  what  we  have  in  the  house,  we 
shall  make  out  bravely.  What  say  you,  mistress 
cook  ?" 

"  I  will  do  my  best,  your  worship,"  replied  Em- 
meline,  with  mock  humility  ;  and,  receiving  some 
money  from  Harry,  she  went  to  fulfil  his  direc 
tions. 

The  moment  John  Lewis,  who  was  extrava 
gantly  fond  of  oysters,  heard  that  word  mentioned, 
he  thrust  his  gingerbread  back  into  his  pocket, 
and  remarked,  with  unwonted  animation,  that 
"  oysters  and  tender-loin  was  a  good  dinner  enough 
for  a  governor — and  no  mistake." 

How  shall  I  do  justice,  by  an  attempt  at  de 
scription,  to  that  simple,  but  happy — happy  feast  ? 
Were  I  to  tell  how  many  good  things  were  said — 


WHICH    MAKES    THE    MAN  ?  137 

liow  the  fair  cook  was  complimented  and  toasted 
in  goblets  overflowing  with  cold  water  fresh  from 
the  pump — how  Sim  Lewis  declared  that  the 
stewed  oysters  were  the  "  prirnest"  he  had  ever 
tasted — how  John  Lewis,  looking  slyly  at  his 
"  dad,"  expressed  a  wish,  that  certain  folks,  who 
set  up  for  butchers,  would  only  have  half  as  good 
tender-loins  to  sell — how  Sim  told  him  that  he 
would  rub  his  face  in  the  snow  that  night  when 
they  went  home — how  John  Lewis  retorted,  by 
boasting  that  he  could  whip  his  "  dad"- — how  Em- 
meline  laughed,  and  how  John  Lewis,  encouraged 
by  such  a  sign  of  approbation,  began  to  think  him 
self  a  great  wag  and  the  life  of  the  company — how 
Theodore,  in  order  to  undeceive  him,  told  a  Yan 
kee  story,  which  made  John  and  his  father  choke 
so  with  laughter  as  to  be  obliged  to  turn  away 
from  the  table — how  Hotspur,  now  venerable  in 
years,  was  let  into  the  room  and  fed,  and  then 
permitted  to  curl  himself  up  on  the  rug — and  how 
John  Lewis  declared  that  they  were  "  having  a 
first-rate  time :" — were  I  to  chronicle  all  these 
things,  I  say,  with  proper  minuteness  and  fidelity, 
a  volume  would  hardly  be  sufficient  for  the  pur 
pose. 

The  dinner-cloth  and  the  plates  were  removed 
by  Mingo,  and  then  a  clean  waiter  was  placed 
upon  the  table,  with  tea  and  cake,  the  appearance 
of  which  was  a  signal  for  renewed  hilarity. 

After  tea,  Emmeline  was  unanimously  called 
upon  for  a  song,  whereupon  she  gave  "  Rory  O'- 
More,"  which  was  received  with  such  immense 
applause,  as  roused  even  old  Hotspur  from  his 
nap  and  set  him  to  barking.  John  Lewis  then 
called  for  a  sentimental  song ;  and  Emmeline 
12* 


138  WEALTH   AND    WORTH  ;   OR, 

sang  "  A  place  in  thy  memory,  dearest ;"  at  which 
he  seemed  much  delighted.  To  be  sure,  there 
was  no  accompaniment  for  her  voice.  Her  harp 
and  piano  had  been  sold  long  since  ;  but  she  had 
in  her  throat  a  finer  organ  than  either  ;  and  she 
had  cultivated  it  with  great  success.  Theodore, 
who  was  a  good  judge  of  music,  thought  he  had 
never  heard  a  ballad  more  sweetly  sung. 

The  "  sentimental  song,"  as  John  Lewis  termed 
it,  having  produced  a  check  to  gayety,  Henry  Mav 
erick  called  upon  the  worthy  butcher  for  one  in  a 
different  vein ;  and  Sim  complied.  You  should 
have  heard  him  in  "  Scotland's  burning  ;"  or  the 
"  Three  Blind  Mice  ;"  for  he  completely  electrified 
his  audience,  and  made  the  very  plates  rattle  ap 
plause.  The  pieces,  to  be  sure,  were  not  intended 
for  one  voice,  but  it  was  found  all  sufficient  on 
this  occasion.  Unwilling  to  be  outshone  by  his 
"  dad,"  John  Lewis  produced  a  jew's-harp,  and 
played  some  tunes  in  quite  a  skilful  manner,  so 
that  he  received  a  due  share  of  very  sincere  com 
mendation  from  his  hearers. 

A  contribution  to  the  amusements  of  the  even 
ing  being  now  expected  from  Theodore,  he  took 
from  his  pocket  a  little  morocco  case  and  handed 
it  to  Harry ;  who,  on  opening  it,  found  it  to  con 
tain  a  medallion  profile  in  plaster  of  Ellen  Clare — • 
a  specimen  of  Theodore's  own  handiwork.  Both 
Harry  and  Emmeline  had  a  natural  taste  for  the 
beautiful  in  art,  and  it  seemed  as  if  they  could  not 
too  enthusiastically  express  their  admiration  of 
this  gem.  There  was  genius  in  every  line.  It 
was,  moreover,  a  faithful  likeness  of  the  original. 
So  reluctant  did  Harry  seem  to  part  with  it,  that 
Theodore  finally  desired  him  to  keep  it,  saying 


WHICH    MAKES    THE   MAN?  139 

that  he  had  a  duplicate  copy.  The  gift  was  ac 
cepted  with  alacrity. 

And  now  the  clock  struck  nine,  and  our  little 
party  prepared  to  break  up.  A  "  happy  new  year" 
was,  for  the  fiftieth  time,  wished  all  round  ;  and 
then  the  butcher  and  his  son,  putting  on  their  big 
coats,  bade  their  friends  good  night,  with  many  a 
promise  to  call  soon  again.  Theodore  expected 
to  sail  in  two  or  three  days.  He  now  wished  that 
the  delay  might  be  extended  to  weeks ;  and  his 
eyes  seemed  to  say  so,  as  he  reluctantly  let  go  his 
clasp  of  Emmeline's  hand,  and  followed  the  Lew 
ises  into  the  snow-covered  street.  What  strange, 
and  new,  and  thrilling  emotions  had  he  that  eve 
ning  experienced  !  Ah,  Theodore  !  I  fear  it  is  not 
simply  with  the  eye  of  an  artist  that  you  regard 
Miss  Maverick. 

As  a  faithful  chronicler,  I  may  as  well  add  in 
this  place,  that  Theodore  called  the  next  morning, 
and  invited  Emmeline  to  visit  a  fine  collection  of 
old  paintings  exhibiting  in  Barclay-street.  She 
assented  ;  for  her  mother  was  now  so  well  as  not 
to  require  her  attendance.  It  was  a  cold,  sun- 
bright  morning  ;  and  the  frosted  rime  glittered  as 
if  the  ground  had  been  Macadamized  with  dia 
monds.  The  merry  jingle  of  the  sleigh-bells  was 
sounding  on  all  sides.  Huge  "  omnibuses"  on 
runners  were  dashing  along  Broadway,  filled  with 
gay  passengers.  All  was  animation,  glitter,  and 
activity. 

At  the  exhibition-room,  Emmeline  met  several 
persons,  with  whom  she  had  once  been  acquainted. 
Among  them  was  a  party,  whom  she  had  met  at 
Eagleswood,  consisting  of  the  Misses  Danton,  Mr. 
and  Miss  Van  Rapp,  Miss  Sumpter,  and  Mr.  Er- 


140  WEALTH    AND    WORTH  ;    OR, 

mine.  Ravenstone  Hardworth  was  also  present. 
He  at  once  recognised  Miss  Maverick,  and  pointed 
her  out  to  his  companions.  The  ladies  thereupon 
levelled  their  eye-glasses  at  her  in  a  very  ill-bred 
manner  ;  but  she  and  Theodore  were  by  this  time 
so  lost  in  admiration  of  a  fine  garden  scene  by 
Watteau  as  to  be  wholly  unconscious  of  the  titter 
which  was  intended  for  their  ears.  Theodore  was 
in  his  element ;  and  Emmeline  shared  largely  in 
his  enthusiasm.  Both  thought  the  forenoon,  which 
they  passed  among  the  paintings,  too  brief. 

On  going  on  board  the  "  John  Hancock"  that 
afternoon,  Theodore  learned  that  she  was  to  sail 
early  the  next  morning,  and  that  he  must  be  on 
board  that  night.  Sorrowfully  he  bent  his  way 
toward  the  house  of  the  Mavericks,  and  sorrow 
fully  did  he  take  his  leave  of  Emmeline. 

"  I  have  a  great  favor  to  ask  of  you,"  said  he,  at 
parting. 

"  What  is  it  ?" 

"  Give  me  that  little  curl,  that  is  going  astray 
down  your  cheek.  I  want  it  as  an  amulet.  I  am 
sure  it  will  keep  me  safe  and  pure." 

Emmeline  blushed  ;  and  her  heart  beat  quick 
and  strong.  But  she  at  once  recovered  her  self- 
possession  ;  and,  going  to  the  glass,  severed  the 
lock  with  a  pair  of  scissors,  and  gave  it  to  Theo 
dore,  remarking,  with  a  smile,  that  faith  often  ful 
filled  its  own  prophecies  ;  and  that,  if  he  believed 
the  curl  would  prove  a  charm  against  evil,  he  had 
already  done  much  toward  making  it  one.  Then, 
predicting  his  success  in  the  art  to  which  he  was 
to  devote  himself,  and  wishing  him  a  prosperous 
voyage,  she  bade  him  "  God  speed."  And  Theo 
dore,  with  many  good  resolutions,  high  aspirations, 


WHICH    MAKES   THE   MAN? 


141 


and  tender  hopes  succeeding  one  another  in  his 
mind,  hurried  along  the  bank  of  the  river  toward 
the  brig,  and  embarked  for  Italy. 


142  WEALTH    AND    WORTH  J    OR, 


CHAPTER  XL 

"  If  feeling  does  not  prompt,  in  vain  you  strive  ; 
If  from  the  soul  the  language  does  not  come, 
By  its  own  impulse,  to  impel  the  hearts 
Of  hearers,  with  communicated  power, 
In  vain  you  strive — in  vain  you  study  earnestly." 

GOETHE,  translated  by  ANSTER. 

THE  period  to  which  Henry  Maverick  had  long 
looked  forward  with  anxious  but  resolute  feelings 
— to  attain  which,  he  had  confined  his  zeal  and 
his  efforts  to  one  exclusive  study  and  pursuit,  en 
during  many  privations,  and  foregoing  many  en 
joyments,  with  an  unfaltering  spirit — had  now 
arrived.  He  was  admitted  to  practise  at  the  bar, 
and  to  call  himself  a  lawyer.  And  with  a  sagaci 
ty  which  looked  to  a  mutual  advantage,  he  had 
entered  into  partnership  with  Mr.  Trane,  and  set 
up  his  sign  over  the  door  of  that  gentleman's  of 
fice.  He  was  well  aware,  however,  that  supine- 
ness  and  inactivity  were  not  the  steps  of  advance 
ment.  He  resolved  to  make  himself  heard  and 
known  in  the  community.  He  had  long  practised 
extemporaneous  speaking  in  private,  and  had  com 
plete  confidence  in  his  promptitude,  fluency,  and 
command  of  language.  Had  he  the  self-posses 
sion  requisite  to  address  a  public  assembly  ? — to 
keep  his  ideas  properly  marshalled  for  utterance 
in  the  presence  of  a  large  audience  ?  He  was  re 
solved  to  try.  One  failure  or  twenty  should  not 
discourage  him.  He  well  knew  that  there  was 


WHICH    MAKES    THE    MAN?  143 

no  faculty  more  easily  attainable  by  practice,  than 
that  of  speaking  in  public.  The  novelty  of  the 
thing  might  embarrass  him  at  first.  The  formality 
of  "  rising  and  attracting  the  eyes  of  a  crowd,  and 
continuing  to  speak  while  everybody  else  was 
silent,"  might  confound  and  discommode  him ; 
but  he  was  conscious,  that  if  he  had  anything  worth 
hearing  to  communicate  ;  any  great  controverted 
truths,  which  he  felt  strongly  himself,  and  desired 
to  impress  upon  others — he  had  nothing  to  fear. 
If  there  were  ideas,  the  words  would  follow. 
Nay  ;  Maverick  had  seen,  in  attending  the  public 
meetings  of  the  various  political  parties  of  the  city, 
how  often  a  speaker  managed  to  get  along  fre 
quently  without  any  ideas,  by  dint  of  mere  verbiage 
and  assurance. 

The  question  of  an  expensive  enterprise  to  sup 
ply  the  city  with  fresh  spring  water,  by  means  of 
an  aqueduct,  that  should  rival  the  proudest  works 
of  antiquity  in  stupendous  magnificence,  was  at 
that  time  in  agitation,  and  a  public  meeting  of 
citizens  had  been  called  for  its  consideration. 
Many  wealthy  holders  of  real  estate  were  hostile 
to  the  undertaking,  inasmuch  as  they  feared  it 
would  involve  a  burden  of  taxation,  of  which  they 
would  have  to  bear  a  heavy  proportion.  The 
poorer  classes,  however,  felt  the  importance  of 
having  a  supply  of  pure,  fresh  water,  and  were 
pretty  generally  in  favor  of  the  measure.  But 
they  were  not  yet  fully  aroused  to  a  sense  of  its 
value,  and  its  friends  began  to  apprehend  that  the 
opposition  brought  to  bear  by  the  estate-holders 
would  arrest  it  for  the  present.  The  meeting  now 
called  was  looked  to  with  anxiety,  as  it  was  be 
lieved  to  have  been  arranged  by  the  enemies  of 


144  WEALTH   AND   WORTH  ;    OR, 

the  enterprise,  for  the  purpose  of  directing  public 
opinion  in  favor  of  its  indefinite  postponement. 

The  important  evening  was  at  hand.  During 
the  afternoon,  Harry  and  Emmeline  had  taken  a 
walk  up  Broadway  as  far  as  Union  Place.  Harry 
had  been  silent  and  abstracted  the  whole  distance. 
Occasionally  his  lips  would  move,  and  a  hasty 
gesticulation  would  indicate  that  he  was  revolving 
some  topic  of  more  than  ordinary  interest. 

"  What  possesses  you,  Harry  ?"  asked  his  sis 
ter.  "  Here  I  have  put  a  question  to  you  five 
times,  and  you  have  paid  no  more  attention  to  it 
than  if  you  had  been  that  pump  at  the  corner." 

"  Excuse  me,  sister.  I  was  thinking  about  ma 
king  a  speech  to-night  at  Masonic  Hall." 

"A  speech!"  exclaimed  Emmeline — and  her 
heart  leaped  almost  into  her  mouth.  "  How  I 
wish  I  could  be  there  to  hear  you  !  But  will  it 
not  require  a  vast  deal  of  courage,  Harry  ?" 

"  Not  exactly  courage,  I  suspect.  The  little 
tinker  in  our  street,  who  is  so  afraid  of  his  wife  as 
to  let  her  box  his  ears  with  impunity,  is  quite  a 
doughty  orator  at  some  of  our  ward-meetings.  He 
will  spout  you  by  the  hour  together — and  such 
brave  words  ! — such  a  valorous  pummelling  of  the 
table  with  his  fists  !  And  yet  we  can  hardly  call 
Dick  Dwindle  a  man  of  courage.  Assurance  is, 
perhaps,  the  fitter  word." 

"  But  on  what  subject  do  you  intend  to  speak  ? 
How  anxious  I  shall  be  to  hear  of  your  success !" 

"  Cold  water  is  my  theme.  Had  ever  poet  or 
orator  a  more  inspiring  one  ?  Ah,  Emmeline  ! 
you  and  I  have  lived  among  poor  folks  long  enough 
in  this  great  city  to  have  every  sympathy  of  our 
nature  awakened  in  this  cause.  We  have  seen 


WHICH   MAKES    THE   MAN  t  145 

how  uncleanliness  and  vice  beget  each  other,  and 
how  intemperance  often  finds  for  itself  a  not  in 
valid  excuse  in  the  scarcity  and  impurity  of  the 
limpid  element." 

"  It  is  very  true.  And  how  often  last  summer 
I  used  to  sigh  for  a  draught  from  the  cool,  crystal 
spring,  which  bubbles  forth  close  by  the  summer- 
house  at  Eagleswood !" 

They  had  by  this  time  reached  the  street  in 
which  they  lived. 

"  Here  we  are,  at  home,  Emmeline  !  They  are 
lighting  the  street-lamps.  I  must  go  ;  for  I  would 
be  in  season  at  the  hall.  Tell  mother  all  about 
it ;  and  have  a  cup  of  tea  ready  for  me  when  I  re 
turn.  I  shall  probably  be  back  by  ten." 

"  Be  sure  and  recollect  everything  that  happens, 
that  we  may  have  a  full  account  of  it  from  your 
own  lips.  I  am  sure,  quite  sure,  dear  Harry,  that 
you  will  succeed.  God  be  with  you !" 

Harry  hastened  across  the  Bowery,  along  Grand- 
street,  and  down  Broadway,  until  he  reached  Ma 
sonic  Hall.  Lights  were  gleaming  from  the  win 
dows,  and  people  were  pouring  in  at  the  door  and 
up  stairs  into  the  large  room,  in  considerable  num 
bers.  He  joined  the  current,  and  soon  found  him 
self  in  the  centre  of  the  hall.  At  the  further  end 
was  a  raised  platform,  with  a  table  and  chairs  for 
the  president,  vice-presidents,  and  secretaries  of 
the  meeting,  and  a  space  reserved  for  the  speakers. 

It  was  speedily  apparent  to  Harry,  as  the  meet 
ing  filled  up,  that  its  proceedings  had  been  all  pre 
arranged,  or  "  cut  and  dried,"  by  the  leaders  of  the 
party  opposed  to  the  great  cold-water  enterprise. 
Not  only  had  the  officers  of  the  meeting  been  de 
cided  upon,  and  a  set  of  resolutions  prepared,  but 


WEALTH    AND    WORTH  ;    OR, 

the  very  speakers  had  been  designated  ;  and,  al 
though  the  meeting  was  nominally  one  for  free 
discussion,  it  was  plain  that  it  would  be  regarded 
as  a  species  of  interference  for  any  individual, 
undelegated  by  a  clique,  to  address  the  assembly. 
Nevertheless,  young  Maverick  did  not  despair. 

The  meeting  was  called  to  order  by  Harry's  old 
friend  Bloomwell.  An  old  and  respectable  citi 
zen,  named  Ruydvelt,  was  placed  in  the  chair, 
without  opposition ;  and  a  number  of  vice-presi 
dents,  among  whom  was  the  elder  Mr.  Hardworth, 
were  then  appointed  ;  while  Mr.  Ravenstone  Hard- 
worth  and  Mr.  Van  Rapp  were  made  secretaries. 
An  organization  having  been  thus  effected,  Mr. 
Twist,  another  old  acquaintance  of  our  hero,  rose, 
and  glibly  stated  the  objects  of  the  meeting — which 
were,  according  to  his  exposition,  to  consider  the 
inexpediency  of  undertaking  at  that  time,  during 
the  unexampled  state  of  prostration  in  all  branches 
of  business,  a  project  so  ruinously  expensive  as 
that  proposed  by  the  cold-water  men — a  project, 
"  which,  if  carried  into  operation,  would  burden 
the  city  and  the  citizens  with  a  tax  that  would 
press  like  an  incubus  upon  their  energies — that, 
like  the  Bohan  Upas,*  would  wither  and  blast  all 
other  enterprises  beneath  its  shade." 

After  much  more  to  this  effect,  Mr.  Twist  offer 
ed  a  series  of  resolutions,  condemning  the  enter 
prise  as  unseasonable,  superfluous,  and  unjust  in 
its  operation.  As  he  sat  down,  Mr.  Bloomwell 

*  Did  the  reader  ever  attend  a  popular  meeting  for  debate 
in  this  country,  at  which  this  unfortunate  tree  was  not 
pressed  into  metaphorical  service  ?  It  has  answered  almost 
as  many  purposes  in  oratory  as  the  "  phoenix,''  or  the 
"dew-drops  on  the  lion's  mane.'' 


WHICH    MAKES    THE    MAN  ?  147 

instantly  rose,  seconded  the  resolutions,  and,  in 
dulging  in  many  coy  remarks  upon  his  own  pre 
sumption  in  addressing  the  assembly  after  the 
eloquent,  unanswerable,  and  never-to-be-rivalled 
speech  of  the  gentleman  who  had  just  finished, 
made  a  very  long  and  dull  harangue,  as  if  to  prove 
the  sincerity  of  his  pretended  diffidence  of  his  own 
powers  of  captivating  an  audience. 

A  very  feeble  indication  of  applause  followed 
each  of  these  speeches.  But  there  were  plainly 
many  malecontents  among  the  crowd,  who  were 
dissatisfied  at  the  course  things  were  taking. 
"  Why  isn't  Wagnell  here  to-night  ?"  asked  one 
of  them.  "  He  promised  he  would  speak  for  us. 
He  is  always  among  the  missing.  It  won't  do  to 
let  the  case  go  by  default.  Some  of  us  ought  to 
enter  our  protest.  Come,  Jones,  get  up  as  soon, 
as  this  old  proser  has  finished,  and  say  a  word  or 
two  against  the  resolutions.  They  will  be  passed 
of  course,  but  we  ought  to  let  the  public  know  that 
there  were  some  dissenting  voices." 

"  Oh,  I  can't  speak  in  public,"  said  Jones. 
"  Here  is  Sterling.  He  can  talk  like  a  book." 

Mr.  Bloomwell  had  at  length  ceased  speaking, 
and  stepped  down  from  the  platform.  "  Is  it  your 
pleasure  that  these  resolutions  be  adopted  ?"  said 
the  president. 

Mr  Sterling,  a  modest,  smooth-faced,  respecta 
ble-looking  man,  now  mounted  the  platform  and 
begged  to  say  a  few  words.  He  then  mildly  and 
hesitatingly  stated  some  objections  to  the  argu 
ments  which  Messrs.  Twist  and  Bloomwell  had 
advanced  ;  but  his  voice  was  so  low,  and  his  man 
ner  so  unimpassioned,  that  he  hardly  seemed  to 
produce  a  single  ripple  upon  the  minds  of  his  au- 


148  WEALTH    AND    WORTH;    OR, 

dience.  His  friends  tried  to  animate  him  by  a 
little  applause,  but  it  would  not  do.  The  anti-cold 
water  men  looked  on  and  smiled  at  his  feeble  and 
unavailing  efforts.  As  soon  as  he  had  ceased, 
Mr.  Twist  rose,  and,  in  a  compassionate  manner, 
as  if  correcting  the  errors  of  a  child,  put  aside,  or 
seemed  to  put  aside,  the  few  gentle  objections  that 
had  been  suggested. 

"  Is  it  your  pleasure  that  these  resolutions  be 
now  adopted  ?"  said  the  president  a  second  time. 

Harry's  heart  beat  as  if  it  would  burst  through 
his  breast.  Pushing  his  way  through  the  crowd, 
he  jumped  upon  the  platform,  and  ejaculated,  "  Mr. 
President !" 

"  Down  !  down  !  Question  !  question  1  Down  !" 
cried  the  anti-cold  water  men. 

"  Go  on  !  Hear  him !  Let  him  speak  !  Don't 
be  afraid,  young  'un !  Give  him  fair  play !"  re 
turned  their  opponents. 

A  tremendous  clamor  was  raised.  "  Can  I  be 
lieve  my  eyes  ?"  quoth  Mr.  Bloomwell. 

"  What  impudence  !"  cried  Mr.  Twist. 

"  I  thought  the  vagabond  was  dead,"  said  Ra- 
venstone  Hardworth  to  his  fellow-secretary. 

"  The  boy  must  be  tipsy,"  muttered  the  elder 
Mr.  Hardworth  to  his  neighbor. 

Harry  stood  his  ground  as  if  he  had  been  a 
statue  of  bronze. 

"  Silence  !"  exclaimed  the  president,  rapping 
with  the  knob  of  his  cane  upon  the  table.  "No 
man  shall  say  I  have  abetted  any  attempt  at  gag- 
gery.  Silence,  Mr.  Hardworth  !  This  is  a  meet 
ing  for  free  discussion."  And  then,  turning  to 
Harry,  he  courteously  asked :  "  What  name,  sir, 
shall  I  announce  ?" 


WHICH   MAKES   THE    MAN?  149 

"  Maverick !" 

"  Mr.  Maverick  will  address  you,  gentlemen." 

Harry  bowed  and  turned  to  the  audience.  The 
hall  was  filled  almost  to  overflowing.  A  thousand 
eyes  were  intently  fixed  upon  his.  A  thousand 
lips  were  silent  for  his  to  open.  A  thousand  ears 
were  listening  for  his  words.  His  most  careless 
movements  were  now  subjects  of  scrutiny  to  a 
multitude.  Did  he  quail  ?  For  a  moment,  the  hall 
and  the  people  seemed  to  swim  before  him.  His 
faculties  were  suspended.  He  was  dizzy,  sick.  A 
faint  hiss  was  heard  from  among  the  vice-presi 
dents.  It  restored  him  to  consciousness,  and  was 
followed  by  a  round  of  applause,  stimulated  main 
ly  by  a  man  on  crutches  not  far  from  the  platform, 
who  had  been  particularly  active  from  the  first  in 
encouraging  Harry  to  proceed,  and  in  producing 
an  impression  in  his  favor.  The  applause  gave 
our  hero  time  to  rally.  It  was  hushed.  Silence 
pervaded  the  crowd.  In  clear,  audible  tones,  and 
with  a  prepossessing  grace  of  language  and  of 
manner,  he  thanked  the  president  and  the  audi 
ence  for  their  indulgence  in  granting  him  a  hear 
ing,  and  then,  elevating  his  voice,  he  launched  in 
to  his  subject,  "  like  an  eagle  dallying  with  the 
wind." 

The  speaker  swept  away,  as  if  they  were  so 
many  cobwebs,  the  laborious  facts  and  long  docu 
mentary  statistics  that  had  been  adduced  by  Twist 
and  Bloomwell.  He  declared  that  it  was  a  matter 
of  indifference  whether  they  were  true  or  false. 
They  were  impertinent  in  either  case.  The  only 
relevant  questions  were,  can  the  enterprise  of  sup 
plying  the  city  with  pure  water  be  honorably  ef- 
13* 


150  WEALTH   AND    WORTH  ;    OB, 

fected,  and,  if  so,  ought  it  not  to  be  carried  into 
immediate  operation  ? 

This  simplification  of  the  points  at  issue,  ex 
pressed  as  it  was  with  a  pointed  energy  of  style 
and  utterance,  was  received  with  loud  and  pro 
longed  applause.  The  two  Hardworths,  Bloom- 
well,  and  Twist  were  almost  pallid  with  agitation 
and  anger.  But  the  venerable  presiding  officer, 
Mr.  Ruydvelt,  smiled,  and  nodded  with  suavity  to 
the  young  debater. 

Having  stated  his  propositions,  Harry  then  pro 
ceeded  to  urge  them  affirmatively  upon  his  hear 
ers.  "  Was  the  project  feasible  ?  What  intelli 
gent  man  could  entertain  a  doubt  upon  the  sub 
ject  ?  Not  any  one,  who  had  seen,  as  he  had 
seen,  and  many  there  present  had  seen,  the  wealthi 
est  portion  of  that  great  city  laid  in  flames,  a  heap 
of  black,  smouldering  ruins ;  and,  lo !  with  a  ra 
pidity  that  seemed  the  work  of  magic,  the  next 
morning  the  hammer  of  the  artisan  was  heard 
ringing  amid  the  scene  of  desolation,  and  before 
the  news  of  the  conflagration  had  reached  the  re 
motest  parts  of  the  country,  stately  edifices  of 
granite  and  of  brick  were  rising  on  every  side, 
and  the  busy  hum  of  traffic  mingled  with  the 
cheerful  din  of  labor,  until,  in  a  few  weeks, — it 
would  hardly  be  an  exaggeration  to  say,  days — 
instead  of  an  unsightly  waste  of  smirched  bricks, 
whole  streets  of  elegant  structures  might  be  seen, 
proudly  lifting  their  heads  to  proclaim  to  the  world 
that  New  York,  Antaeus-like,  had  gathered  new 
strength  from  her  prostration  to  the  earth.  And 
will  gentlemen  tell  us  that  this  great  metropolis — 
with  a  population  increasing  at  a  ratio  almost  in 
credible  ;  with  unimpaired  credit  and  resources, 


WHICH    MAKES    THE    MAN  ?  151 

to  whose  development  the  imagination  could  not 
fix  a  limit — with  the  sea  at  her  feet,  pouring  the 
commerce  of  all  nations  into  her  lap,  and  with  two 
abounding  rivers  clasping  her  in  their  arms,  and 
bringing  tributes  of  trade  from  vast  inland  regions — 
will  gentlemen  gravely  tell  us  that  such  a  metropolis 
cannot  afford  to  purchase  for  its  inhabitants  the  bles 
sing  of  a  bountiful  supply  of  pure,  wholesome  water] 
As  well  might  the  clouds  say  to  the  ocean,  while 
imbibing  perpetual  moisture  from  its  evaporation — 
We  cannot  afford  to  give  you  rain  !" 

I  have  attended  many  public  meetings,  but  do 
not  remember  ever  to  have  heard  a  more  animated 
and  prolonged  explosion  of  applause  than  that 
which  followed  this  climax,  uttered  as  it  was  with 
a  bold  and  eloquent  emphasis  of  action  and  of  tone. 
After  hands  had  been  clapped,  and  canes  knocked 
against  the  floor,  till  the  roof  rang  again,  the  man 
with  the  crutch  cried  out  "  three  cheers  !" — "  I 
second  the  motion !"  said  John  Lewis ;  and  im 
mediately  three  rounds  of  good,  hearty  cheers 
were  given  by  the  majority  of  the  audience,  with 
a  loudness  that  startled  the  pedestrians  in  Broad 
way,  and  brought  a  large  addition  to  the  meeting. 
Old  Ruydvelt  seemed  delighted,  and  several  gen 
tlemen,  who  had  come  to  oppose  the  project,  warm 
ly  applauded  the  young  orator.  But  O,  the  long 
faces  that  were  worn  by  certain  people  present ! 

"  We  have  now  to  consider,"  continued  Harry, 
"  if,  granting  that  this  enterprise  can  be  accom 
plished,  it  ought  not  to  be,  and  at  once."  He  then 
went  on  briefly  to  recapitulate  some  simple  but  in 
teresting  facts  in  regard  to  the  benefits  of  a  plenti 
ful  supply  of  pure  water  for  external  and  internal 
use.  He  maintained,  that  the  sole  primitive  and 


152  WEALTH   AND    WORTH  ;    OR, 

mainly  natural  drink  was  water,  which,  when  pure, 
had  nothing  noxious  in  it.  It  was  the  best,  most 
wholesome,  and  grateful  to  those  who  were  thirsty, 
whether  sick  or  well ;  and  he  proved,  from  high 
medical  testimony,  that  it  was  the  most  proper  bev 
erage  for  man  as  well  as  for  animals.  "  But,  be  it 
observed,"  he  said,  "  that  in  all  these  testimonials 
to  its  value,  it  is  pure  water  that  is  spoken  of." 
And  thereupon  he  stated  some  startling  facts  in  re 
gard  to  the  chymical  analysis  of  the  water  in  some 
of  our  wells,  by  which  it  appeared  that  from  their 
contiguity  to  the  pollutions  of  the  city,  they  were 
liable  to  be  impregnated  with  qualities  the  most  per 
nicious — an  objection  to  which  pure  spring  water, 
introduced  from  a  distance  through  iron  pipes,  could 
never  be  liable.  Then  a  thrilling  allusion  to  the 
effect  that  might  be  expected  from  the  enterprise, 
in  presenting  a  check  to  intemperance,  led  him  on 
to  expatiate  a  moment  upon  the  tremendous  evils 
of  that  habit,  and  to  draw  a  vivid  picture  of  one  of 
its  votaries.  After  carrying  this  imaginary  victim 
through  the  usual  gradations  of  sin  and  debase 
ment,  the  orator  represented  him  suddenly  as  over 
taken  by  a  repentance,  tardy,  but  not  altogether 
hopeless,  although  "  the  poor,  gin-corroded,  fallen 
mortal  now  lay  gasping,  writhing,  and  helpless  on 
his  coarse,  unwashed  pallet,  cursing  the  day  when 
he  first  tasted  of  spirituous  liquors.  Will  you  not,  O 
fellow-citizens,  listen  to  his  dying  prayer — a  cup 
of  pure,  cold  water  for  charity* s  sake  .'" 

I  have  done  but  imperfect  justice  to  this  passage 
in  Harry's  speech.  Suffice  it  to  say,  that  it  pro 
duced  another  burst  of  applause  not  less  decided 
than  the  last.  "  Yes  i  yes  !  we  will  listen  to  it !" 
cried  a  hundred  voices. 


WHICH    MAKES    THE    MAN  ?  153 

Harry  concluded  his  remarks  by  saying  that, 
should  the  resolutions  offered  by  the  gentleman, 
who  first  addressed  that  assembly,  be  set  aside,  he 
should  supply  their  place  with  the  following : 
"  Resolved :  that,  in  the  opinion  of  this  meeting, 
it  is  expedient  for  the  city  authorities  to  adopt  in 
stant  and  efficient  measures  for  introducing  into 
the  city  a  constant,  regular,  and  copious  supply  of 
pure  spring  water." 

Another  and  a  more  protracted  storm  of  applause 
followed,  as,  handing  this  resolution  on  a  slip  of 
paper  to  the  president,  our  friend  Harry  stepped 
down  from  the  platform: 

"  Who  is  he  ?  What  did  he  say  his  name  was  7 
Does  anybody  know  him  ?  A  great  speech — was 
it  not  ?  See  how  mad  old  Bloomwell  looks ! 
Our  side  is  up  again  !  What  is  he  ?  Who  is  he  ? 
A  second  Harry  Clay  !  Lawyer  Twist  is  scowl 
ing  like  a  thunder-cloud — So  is  Hardworth — Well 
he  may — The  young  fellow's  name  is  Maverick — 
What  an  eye  he  has  !  He  isn't  one  of  your  dan 
dies,  any  how — His  coat  seemed  a  little  rusty — 
Did  any  one  ever  hear  him  speak  before  ?" — Such 
were  the  exclamations  and  interrogations  which 
Harry  had  to  hear,  mingled  in  one  confused  buzz 
around  him. 

The  resolutions  offered  by  Mr.  Twist  were  put 
by  the  president,  and  rejected  by  the  audience 
with  one  loud,  emphatic  "  No  !"  Harry's  resolu 
tion  was  then  read.  "  Is  it  your  pleasure,  gentle 
man,"  said  old  Mr.  Ruydvelt,  "  that  this  resolution 
be  adopted  ?" — "  Ay,  ay !"  exclaimed  a  thousand 
voices.  It  was  triumphantly  carried ;  and  thus 
were  the  objects  of  the  enemies  of  pure  water 
utterly  defeated. 


154  WEALTH   AND   WORTH;   OR, 

A  gentleman  of  composed,  easy  manners,  now 
rose,  and  begged  to  offer  a  couple  of  resolutions. 
"  Certainly,"  thought  Harry,  "  I  have  seen  that 
face  before.  It  is  Mr.  Brown,  whom  I  met  once 
at  Eagleswood,  and  took  a  great  dislike  to.  He 
told  me  some  things  then,  which  made  me  think 
him  a  prejudiced  old  cynic ;  but  they  have  all 
turned  out  true.  I  wonder  what  he  has  got  to 
say  now  1" 

It  was  in  truth  Mr.  Brown  ;  and  these  were  the 
resolutions,  which,  in  a  clear,  loud  voice,  he  read 
and  proposed  :  "  Resolved,  that  the  thanks  of  this 
meeting  be  presented  to  Mr.  Henry  Maverick  for 
his  able,  eloquent,  and  instructive  address."  (Loud 
applause.)  "  Resolved,  that  the  proceedings  of 
this  meeting  be  published  in  all  the  morning  pa 
pers."  Mr.  Twist  attempted  to  speak,  but  his 
voice  was  drowned.  Nobody  would  listen  to  him. 
The  resolutions  were  adopted  amid  shouts  of  ap 
probation  ;  and  Mr.  Ravenstone  Hardworth  had 
the  pleasure,  as  secretary,  of  recording  for  publi 
cation  the  honorable  praise  of  one,  whom  he  hated 
with  the  hate  of  a  bad  and  vindictive  heart. 

A  motion  to  adjourn  was  now  carried,  and  the 
meeting  broke  up  amid  an  almost  general  conver 
sation,  of  which  young  Maverick  and  his  speech 
seemed  to  be  the  universal  topics.  The  first  per 
son  who  came  forward  to  greet  him  was  John 
Lewis,  who  had  blistered  his  hands  with  applaud 
ing,  and  who  now  seemed  proud  as  a  victorious 
general  of  his  acquaintance  with  the  successful 
speaker.  Mr.  Brown  then  advanced  with  Mr. 
Ruydvelt,  and  congratulated  our  hero  in  the  warm 
est  terms,  inquiring  where  his  place  of  business 
was,  and  promising  to  call  on  him  soon.  He 


WHICH   MAKES   THE   MAN  ?  155 

also  introduced  his  friend  the  Mayor,  who  invited 
Harry  to  dine  with  him  the  next  day,  in  company 
with  Mr.  Brown  and  a  foreign  minister  of  distinc 
tion.  Messrs.  Bloomwell  and  Hardworth  passed 
by  just  in  time  to  hear  this  invitation  given  and 
accepted.  Several  respectable  citizens  now  press 
ed  forward,  and  introduced  themselves,  express 
ing  their  acknowledgments  in  the  most  flattering 
terms.  Among  them  were  Mr.  Sterling,  Mr.  Jones, 
and  several  gentlemen,  whose  philanthropic  exer 
tions  were  enlisted  in  behalf  of  the  temperance 
cause.  Fortunately,  Harry  had  a  pack  oi  printed 
cards  in  his  pocket,  bearing  the  names  of  "  Maver 
ick  &  Trane,  Attorneys  and  Counsellors  at  Law," 
with  the  number  of  their  office  ;  and  these  he  had 
no  false  delicacy  in  distributing  among  persons, 
who  professed  themselves  under  deep  obligations 
for  his  efforts  that  evening. 

As  he  was  leaving  the  hall,  arm  in  arm  with  his 
now  elated  friend,  John  Lewis,  he  met  near  the 
door-way  the  man  on  crutches,  who,  by  his  well- 
timed  applause  before  the  speech  was  begun,  had 
done  him  no  trifling  service.  The  man  hobbled 
up,  and  said  :  "  It  isn't  myself  you'll  be  for  re 
membering,  Mr.  Maverick  ;  but  I  shall  remember 
you  to  my  dying  day,  or  my  name  isn't  Dennis 
McCarty." 

"  Indeed  I  have  no  recollection  of  you,  my  good 
friend." 

"  Oh,  it's  asy  for  the  likes  o'  you  to  forgit  doin' 
a  poor  man  a  charity.  Were  you  never  in  Cam 
bridge  ?  Did  you  never  give  a  poor  fellow,  an' 
that's  myself,  ten  dollars  bekase  his  hand-organ 
had  been  bruk  by  that  chap  wid  the  big  goold  chain 
round  his  neck — the  same  who  sat  among  the  vice- 


156  WEALTH    AND    WORTH  ;    OR, 

prisidents  to-night  ?  Ogh,  thin,  I  called  him  a 
big  blackguard  wanst,  an'  a  big  blackguard  he  is 
still ;  for  didn't  I  persave  him  fix  the  evil  eye  on 
yer  onner  ?  But  little's  the  harm  the  spalpeen 
can  do  you." 

"  I  recollect  the  incident  of  the  hand-organ.  I 
am  glad  to  see  you,  Dennis.  How  are  you  getting 
on?" 

"  Hearty-like,  an'  it's  yerself  I  may  thank,  an' 
the  ten  dollars.  An'  if  yer  onner  wud  go  to  Con 
gress,  isn't  it  Dennis  McCarty  that  'ud  bring  you 
a  hundhred  dacent  boys  to  the  polls — clane,  active 
lads,  wid  shillelaghs  under  their  arms  ?" 

"  Thank  you,  Dennis,  thank  you,"  said  Harry, 
laughing.  "  We  can  dispense  with  the  shillelaghs. 
But  here's  my  card.  Should  you  or  your  friends 
get  into  trouble,  I  shall  be  happy  to  serve  you." 

"  We'll  git  into  trouble  this  blessed  night,  yer 
onner,  for  the  sake  of  comin'  to  you." 

"  Heaven  forbid  !  But  they  are  putting  out  the 
lights.  Good  night,  Dennis." 

"  Good  night,  yer  onner.  A  long  life  and  a 
merry  wake  to  you,  for  a  rale  jintleman  as  you 
are  !" 

With  what  a  beating  heart  did  Emmeline  listen 
for  her  brother's  knock  at  the  door,  that  eventful 
evening !  And  when  he  came  at  last,  and  she 
flew  to  receive  him,  and,  over  his  cup  of  tea,  he 
faithfully  described  to  her  and  Mrs.  Maverick  all 
the  incidents  which  I  have  narrated, — how  the 
maiden  wept  and  laughed  by  turns  !  How  proud 
of  him  were  both  sister  and  mother !  How  much 
purer  and  nobler  than  any  gratification  which 
could  have  sprung  from  the  accession  of  mere 


WHICH   MAKES    THE   MAN  ? 


157 


wealth,  was  the  felicity  of  those  three  united  hearts 
at  that  moment ! 

Harry  retired  to  rest,  and,  in  the  simple  prayer 
which  the  Savior  has  given  for  our  daily  use,  com 
mended  himself  to  the  guidance  of  his  Father  in 
heaven.  It  was  long,  however,  before  the  busy 
brain  of  the  young  lawyer  would  allow  him  to 
sink  into  forgetfulness.  Imagination  represented 
over  and  over  again  the  flattering  events  of  the 
evening.  The  watchman's  staff  rang  on  the  side 
walk  beneath  his  window,  and  the  clocks  from 
different  steeples  told  the  hours  past  midnight. 
But  Harry  heeded  not  these  signals  of  the  lapse 
of  time.  At  length  drowsiness  overcame  his 
senses.  He  slept,  and  his  sleep  was  tranquil,  and 
his  dreams  were  bright  as  innocence  and  beautiful 
as  hope. 


14 


158  WEALTH    AND    WORTH  J    OR, 


CHAPTER  XII. 

"  While  many  a  noble  name,  to  virtue  dear, 
Delights  the  public  eye,  the  public  ear, 
And  fills  thy  canker'd  breast  with  suuh  annoy, 
As  Satan  felt  from  innocence  and  joy  ; 
Why,  Peter,  leave  the  hated  object  free, 
And  vent,  poor  driveller,  all  thy  spite  on  me  ?" 

GIFFOBD'S  Epistle  to  PETER  PINDAR. 

"  Be  thnu  as  pure  as  ice,  as  chaste  as  snow,  ihou  shall  not  escape 
calumny." 

SHAKSPEARE. 

EARLY  the  next  morning,  after  a  frugal  break 
fast,  Henry  Maverick  hastened  to  his  office.  He 
found  Mr.  Trane  busily  engaged  in  writing  an 
essay  on  the  "  Statute  of  Limitations"  for  some 
law  magazine. 

"  Well,  Trane,"  said  he,  "  is  there  any  news 
to-day?" 

"  Nothing  in  particular,  except  that  the  papers 
have  a  good  deal  to  say  about  a  speech  that  was 
made  by  a  person  of  your  name  at  the  meeting  last 
night.  Who  could  he  be  ?" 

"  None  other  than  the  humble  individual  before 
you,  my  dear  sir." 

"  You  make  a  speech  !  You  are  joking.  Why 
one  of  the  papers  here  says  it  was  something  su 
perfine — quite  extraordinary.  And  all  of  them 
acknowledge  that  it  was  received  with  thunders 
of  applause." 

"  Yes,  Trane.    I  made  my  debut  last  night." 


WHICH    MAKES    THE    MAN?  159 

"  Is  it  possible  ?  What !  Harry  ? — You — such 
a  speech ! — My  dear  boy,  give  me  your  hand. 
Ha,  ha,  ha !  Capital !  I  always  said  you  would 
make  a  figure.  Shrewd  thing  in  me  to  make  you 
take  me  in  as  your  partner — wasn't  it  ?" 

"  You  were  never  guilty  of  shrewdness  in  your 
life,  Trane.  But  I  mean  now  to  be  shrewd  for 
you.  You  shan't  be  fleeced,  and  imposed  upon, 
and  swindled  out  of  legal  advice  any  longer.  We 
are  capitally  paired.  You  shall  prepare  cases,  and 
I  will  argue  them.  You  shall  study,  and  I  will 
plead.  You  shall  form  opinions,  and  I  will  deliver 
them." 

"  Just  the  arrangement  that  will  suit  me  !  But 
sit  down,  now,  and  tell  me  all  about  the  speech. 
Here  is  the  Morning  Scourge,  unopened.  Fifty 
times  have  I  told  that  little  ragged  fellow  who 
leaves  it  that  I  didn't  want  it,  but  he  persists  in 
dropping  it  at  the  door,  and  calls  regularly  twice 
a  month,  and  bullies  me  into  paying  him.  Let's 
see  if  the  Scourge  has  anything  to  say  about  you. 
Here  it  is:  'MEETING  AT  MASONIC  HALL. — A 

young  man  named  Maverick  made  a .'  By 

George,  this  is  too  bad  !  The  blackguard  !" 

"  Don't  put  it  in  the  fire.  Let  me  see  what  the 
Scourge  says.  A  little  abuse  is  a  capital  thing  for 
a  rising  young  man :  '  A  young  man  named  Mav 
erick  made  a  fool  of  himself  at  the  meeting  at 
Masonic  Hall  last  night,  in  a  speech  nearly  an 
hour  long,  during  which  he  read  a  lecture  on  tem 
perance  to  the  audience.  Such  puerile  babble,  it 
was  never  our  misfortune  to  listen  to,  and  how  it 
happened  to  be  tolerated  is  a  marvel.  The  speak 
er  himself  seemed  to  be  the  fittest  possible  subject 
for  the  kind  expostulations  of  the  temperance  re- 


160  WEALTH    AND    WORTH  J    OR, 

formers,  for  he  had  evidently  been  screwing  his 
courage  up  with  a  brandy-bottle.  A  gang  of 
loafers,  whom  he  had  brought  with  him,  sustained 
him  in  his  imbecile  tirade,  and  tried  to  get  up  a 
round  of  applause  when  he  had  finished.  This 
Maverick  is  a  low  fellow,  who  hangs  round  the 
purlieus  of  the  Five  Points,  and  gets  '  cold  whiles' 
from  the  Astor  House  and  other  fashionable  hotels. 
He  was  tried  last  year  at  Utica,  under  an  assumed 
name,  for  horse-stealing,  but  was  let  off  in  consid 
eration  of  his  youth.  Will  nobody  give  him  a 
situation  as  boot-cleaner  or  bottle-washer,  by  which 
he  can  get  an  honest  livelihood  and  clothe  himself 
decently  ?" 

"  Coke  upon  Lyttleton  !"  exclaimed  Mr.  Trane, 
employing  in  that  expression  his  direst  and  most 
vehement  oath.  "  Isn't  this  too  bad  ?  Why,  Har 
ry,  the  fellow  ought  to  be  spoken  to." 

"  Do  you  think  so  ?  Would  you  be  so  severe 
upon  him  ?" 

"  Certainly,  he  deserves  it.  What  a  pack  of 
lies  he  has  published !" 

"  Come  along  with  me,  then.  We  will  pay  the 
editor  a  visit,  and  speak  to  him,  as  you  recom 
mend." 

After  threading  a  number  of  streets,  rather  nar 
row  and  dirty,  the  two  friends  arrived  at  the  office 
of  the  Morning  Scourge,  and  proceeding  up  stairs 
into  an  attic,  knocked  at  a  door,  on  which  was 
pasted,  in  letters  cut  from  the  heads  of  newspapers, 
the  words,  "  EDITOR'S  ROOM."  Harry  entered 
without  waiting  for  permission,  and  was  followed  by 
his  companion.  At  a  table  covered  with  the  journals 
of  the  day,  while  beneath  it  lay  cluttered  heaps  of 
old  newspapers,  sat  a  puny  specimen  of  masculine 


WHICH   MAKES   THE   MAN?  161 

humanity,  with  a  box  of  wafers  before  him  and  a 
pair  of  scissors  in  his  hand.  He  was  dressed  in 
black,  and  his  hair  was  black,  and  his  hands  were 
black ;  and  he  wore  black-rimmed  spectacles, 
which  gave  to  his  visage  a  ludicrous  air  of  gravity, 
in  odd  contrast  with  an  expression  of  impish  cun 
ning,  and  gloating  self-conceit,  which  lurked  in 
the  corners  of  his  mouth  and  the  attitudes  of  his 
head. 

"  Are  you  the  editor  ?"  asked  Harry. 

"  It  is  our  private  opinion  that  we  are,"  replied 
this  freak  of  nature,  pasting  a  printed  paragraph 
upon  a  piece  of  brown  paper  as  he  spoke. 

"  Well,  my  name  is  Maverick." 

i;  Indeed  !  Well,  Maverick,  how  are  your  folks  ? 
Has  the  baby  got  over  his  measles  yet  1" 

"  None  of  this  frivolity,  sir  !  What  do  you  mean 
by  these  lies  concerning  me  in  your  paper  of  this 
morning  ?" 

"  Cleverly  done  that — isn't  it,  Maverick  1  Pi 
quant  and  neatly  turned,  eh  ?  We  pride  ourself 
on  that  paragraph." 

"  Are  you  trying  to  provoke  me  into  chastising 
you  on  the  spot  ?" 

"  Oh,  do  it  by  all  means.  It  will  be  a  capital 
day's  job  for  us,  and  furnish  a  good  story  for  the 
Scourge.  Assault  and  battery — held  to  bail — 
damages,  ten  thousand  dollars — Oh,  pray,  have  the 
goodness  to  kick  us.  Perhaps  your  friend  too 
would  like  to  amuse  himself?" 

Poor  Trane  turned  away  in  disgust  and  amaze 
ment,  as  if  shrinking  from  the  horrid  familiarity  of 
some  unclean  beast. 

"  Attend  to  me,  you  ink-spot  on  creation  ;  you 
14* 


WEALTH   AND   "WORTH  ;    OR, 

preposterous  plurality,"  said  Harry,  laughing.  "  I 
am  not  going  to  thrash  you" — 

"  Do,  do  !"  interrupted  the -eccentricity.  "  Have 
the  goodness" — 

"  Silence  !"  exclaimed  Harry.  "  All  I  demand 
of  you  is,  that  you  publish  in  to-morrow's  paper  a 
full  retraction  of  these  falsehoods,  accompanied  by 
a  proper  apology." 

"  Oh  !  certainly,  Maverick,  certainly  ;  with  the 
greatest  possible  pleasure  in  the  world.  Ha,  ha, 
ha  !  '  Happy  to  learn,  &c.' — '  misinformed,  &c.' 
We  will  do  it  for  you — O.  K  !"* 

"  In  that  case,  I  take  my  leave,  advising  you  to 
be  more  sparing  of  your  scurrility  in  future." 

"  Stop  one  moment,  Maverick.  You  have  for 
gotten  a  very  essential  preliminary.  Our  fees  are 
always  payable  in  advance." 

"  Well :   what  is  that  to  me  ?" 

"  Come,  now,  Maverick,  you  don't  suppose  we 
are  going  to  publish  a  vindication  of  you  without 
being  paid  for  it  ?  That  is  too  good  a  joke." 

"  A  vindication  !  What !  when  the  charges 
against  me  have  been  invented  by  yourself  or 


*  For  the  benefit  of  some  future  antiquarian,  I  will  re 
mark,  that  the  use  of  these  mystic  letters,  which  were  so 
conspicuous  upon  the  banners  of  political  parties  during 
the  last  Presidential  contest,  is  popularly  believed  to  have 
originated  with  a  certain  ex-dignitary  of  the  land,  who, 
wishing  to  express  his  approbation  of  a  document  that  was 
submitted  to  his  official  inspection,  endorsed  upon  it,  as  he 
believed,  the  initial  letters  of  the  words  all  correct ;  con 
ceiving  the  proper  spelling  to  be,  o-l  k-o-r-e-k-t.  The  an 
ecdote  is  of  course  one  of  those  pleasant  fictions,  which 
individuals  of  the  same  independent  tone  of  morals  as  the 
editor  of  the  Scourge,  amuse  themselves  with  fabricating. 


WHICH   MAKES   THE   MAN?  163 

your  informer,  do  you  presume  to  call  a  confession 
of  your  villany  a  vindication  of  me  ?" 

"  We  were  hoping,  just  then,  that  you  were 
going  to  strike  us.  You  are  not  a  fellow  of  much 
spunk,  Maverick." 

"  Look  you,  sir !  I  see  it  is  useless  wasting 
anger  upon  such  an  anomaly  as  yourself.  You 
have  been  paid  for  this  abuse  of  me  ?" 

"  Exactly.  Now  you  begin  to  talk  like  a  man 
of  sense." 

"  And  you  want  me  to  pay  you  to  induce  you 
to  take  it  back  ?" 

"  You  couldn't  have  ciphered  it  out  more  cor 
rectly  if  you  had  used  your  slate." 

"  What  is  the  amount  of  your  fee  ?" 

"  Let  us  think.  Five  dollars  received,  and  five 
dollars  that  we  can  get  by  threatening  him  with 
an  exposure,  is  ten  dollars.  Well,  Maverick ; 
seeing  it  is  your  mother's  son,  for  six  dollars,  cash 
down  on  the  nail,  we  will  retract  the  lies  about 
you,  and  come  out  with  an  exposure  of  the  man 
who  put  us  up  to  the  attack." 

"  What  if  I  should  institute  a  libel-suit  against 
you  ?" 

"  Do  it,  Maverick,  and  we  will  swear  eternal 
friendship.  A  libel-suit  would  be  the  making  of 
us.  People  are  complaining  that  the  Scourge 
flags  ;  that  it  doesn't  contain  spice  enough.  A 
libel-suit !  Delicious !  It  will  bring  us  up  again 
to  our  old  circulation." 

"  I  perceive,"  said  Harry,  "  that  you  are  one  of 
that  class  of  outcasts  from  respectable  society,  in 
festing  our  city,  who  live  by  lampoonery,  and  who 
find  a  fiendish  gratification  in  attempts  to  drag 
down  those  above  them  to  their  own  level  of  in- 


164  WEALTH    AND    WORTH  ;    OR, 

famy.  None  but  fools  or  knaves,  however,  credit 
and  retail  your  fabrications.  It  is  your  praise  alone 
which  an  honest  man  should  fear,  for  it  leaves  him 
liable  to  the  suspicion  that  he  has  meanly  truck 
led,  in  order  to  escape  your  venal  defamation.  As 
for  the  person  who  has  instigated  this  abuse  of  me, 
you  may  tell  him,  that  were  his  name  enclosed  in 
a  slip  of  paper  and  dropped  at  my  feet,  I  would  not 
stoop  to  pick  it  up,  so  slight  is  my  curiosity  to 
know  who  he  is,  and  so  little  do  I  prize  his  efforts 
to  injure." 

"  Did  you  ever  try  your  hand  at  a  leading  arti 
cle,  sir  ?"  inquired  the  editor  of  the  Scourge.  "  We 
should  imagine,  now,  you  could  do  something  in 
the  invective  line — something  in  the  style  of  Ju- 
nius,  or  Macaulay  even,  that  would  tell.  Suppose 
you  write  us  a  smasher  for  Saturday's  paper  ?  We 
will  give  you  a  subject." 

Harry  turned  to  his  companion.  "  Have  I  spoken 
to  him  enough,  think  you,  Trane  ?" 

"  Coke  upon  Lyttleton  !  I  never  heard  anything 
like  it  in  my  born  days,"  said  the  astounded  coun 
sellor,  as  he  took  Harry's  proffered  arm.  The 
companions  quitted  the  room,  and  the  last  words 
of  the  editor  of  the  Scourge,  as  they  left,  conveyed 
an  earnest  injunction  to  Maverick,  "not  to  forget 
to  remember  him  to  his  ma'am,"  and  a  request  to 
the  bewildered  Trane,  that  "  he  would  give  him 
a  lock  of  his  hair." 

The  partners  returned  to  their  office.  Mr. 
Brown  was  waiting  there,  and  examining  the  li 
brary  with  lively  manifestations  of  interest.  Har 
ry  introduced  Mr.  Trane,  and  then  described  the 
interview  they  had  just  had  with  the  "  gentleman  of 
the  press."  Mr.  Brown  laughed,  and  said:  "  It  is  all 


WHICH    MAKES    THE    MAN  ?  165 

very  characteristic,  what  you  tell  me.  Now  will 
this  caitiff  come  out  to-morrow  in  his  paper  with  a 
long  story  founded  on  your  visit,  which  will  con 
tain  a  bushel  of  lies  to  a  grain  of  truth.  But  the 
very  license  of  the  abandoned  portion  of  the  press 
among  us  carries  its  own  antidote.  People  may 
read  the  scurrility,  and  laugh  at  it,  but  no  man  of 
intelligence  thinks  of  believing  it.  I  am  rather 
prejudiced  in  favor  of  a  person,  at  seeing  him 
abused  and  defamed  by  a  journal  like  the  Scourge. 
I  have  always  admired  Dr.  Johnson's  true  and  just 
philosophy  in  regard  to  public  abuse.  When  at 
tacked  for  his  writings,  he  would  say  :  *  Why  now, 
these  vagabonds  are  only  advertising  my  book :  it 
is  surely  better  a  man  should  be  abused  than  for 
gotten.'  I  suspect,  Mr.  Maverick,  from  the  indif 
ference  you  manifest  touching  this  atrocious  state 
ment  in  regard  to  yourself,  that  you  have  been  im 
bibing  a  little  of  Dr.  Johnson's  peculiar  philosophy." 

"  I  agree  with  him,  perfectly,  on  this  subject," 
said  Harry. 

"  Well,  Mr.  Maverick,  my  immediate  purpose 
in  calling  here  was  to  inquire,  if  you  and  your 
partner  will  have  time  to  attend  to  a  case  of  some 
magnitude,  which  comes  on  next  month,  in  behalf 
of  a  great  rail-road  company,  who,  if  you  succeed 
in  getting  them  a  verdict,  will  probably  be  very 
liberal  toward  you.  The  case  has  been  intrusted 
to  me,  with  liberty  to  select  whom  I  please  to 
manage  it." 

•'  You  couldn't  have  found  any  who  have  more 
leisure  or  disposition  to  attend  to  business  than 
we.  Isn't  it  so,  Mr.  Trane  ?" 

Mr.  Trane  smiled  and  nodded,  and  then,  em- 


166  WEALTH    AND    WORTH  ;    OR, 

barrassed  by  a  look  from  Mr.  Brown,  winked  his 
eyes  and  began  swinging  his  long  leg. 

"  I  have  read  with  much  pleasure,  Mr.  Trane, 
your  admirable  essay  in  the  Jurist  on  the  '  Conflict 
of  Laws,'"  said  Mr.  Brown.  "  It  is  sound  and 
able,  and  displays  not  only  a  wonderful  extent  of 
legal  learning,  but  much  original  profundity  of 
thought." 

Poor  Trane  had  never  had  a  compliment  before 
in  his  life,  and,  though  his  face  was  overspread 
with  blushes,  he  could  not  forbear  following  the 
impulse  of  his  heart.  He  grasped  Mr.  Brown's 
hand,  and  emphatically  thanked  him. 

Mr.  Brown  took  his  leave,  promising  to  call  the 
next  day  with  the  necessary  documents,  to  put  Mr. 
Trane  in  possession  of  the  important  case  he  had 
confided  to  him  and  his  partner.  Harry  did  not 
forget  his  appointment  that  afternoon  at  the  May 
or's.  He  found  a  party  of  gentlemen  assembled, 
nearly  all  of  whom  were  eminent  for  talents  or 
mental  acquirements ;  and  all  of  them  were  for 
ward  to  seek  his  acquaintance,  and  to  pay  him  at 
tention.  His  opinion  was  several  times  appealed 
to,  and  he  gave  it  with  equal  modesty  and  good 
sense.  Among  the  guests  was  a  nephew  of  the 
Mayor's,  a  young  man  of  large  fortune,  named 
Splash.  He  tried  to  engage  several  persons  in 
conversation  concerning  the  feats  of  the  celebrated 
man-fly  at  one  of  the  minor  theatres,  but  nobody 
seemed  to  sympathize  with  his  admiration,  and 
Splash  at  length  found  himself  so  completely  a  ci 
pher,  amid  the  interchange  of  intellectual  wealth, 
that,  after  emptying  a  bottle  of  champagne,  he  re 
tired  to  the  sofa  and  soon  began  to  snore  in  a  man- 


WHICH  MAKES  THE  MAN?        167 

ner  that  obliged  his  uncle  to  advise  him  to  retire 
to  a  sleeping  apartment. 

Returning  home  soon  after  twilight,  Harry  was 
presented  by  Emmeline  with  the  following  letter 
from  Mr.  Wainbridge,  which  had  been  left  at  the 
door  by  Sim  Lewis  : — 

"  My  DEAR  HARRY  : — It  has  given  me  the  sin- 
cerest  gratification  to  hear  of  your  brilliant  success 
at  the  meeting  last  night.  For  a  time  I  have  for 
gotten  my  own  griefs  in  my  pleasure  at  hearing 
from  all  quarters  the  praises  of  my  old  pupil.  Go 
on  in  your  honorable  career.  The  trials  and  dis 
comfitures,  through  which  you  have  fought  your 
way,  have  been  to  your  intellectual  and  moral 
character,  what  the  exercises  of  the  gymnasium 
are  to  the  athlete.  You  have  trained  yourself  for  the 
conflict ;  and,  with  the  blessing  of  God,  may  now  go 
forth  boldly  into  the  arena,  with  a  bright  conscience 
for  your  shield,  and  knowledge  and  an  enlightened 
reason  for  your  weapons.  I  received  your  kind 
letter  of  inquiry  by  Lewis.  The  information  he 
gave  you  in  regard  to  me  is,  to  a  certain  extent, 
correct.  I  transmitted  to  London  not  long  since, 
through  a  person  whom  I  believed  trustworthy,  a 
sum  of  money,  the  accumulation  of  laborious  years 
in  this  country.  It  was  directed  to  my  wife,  and 
sent  for  the  purpose  of  enabling  her  and  my  daugh 
ter  to  join  me  in  the  United  States.  The  reply 
received  has  been  a  letter,  ostensibly  from  Mrs. 
Wainbridge,  in  which  she  says,  or  is  made  to  say, 
that  being  now  entitled  to  a  divorce  in  consequence 
of  our  protracted  separation,  she  had  concluded  to 
avail  herself  of  the  privilege ;  and  that  it  was  her  in 
tention  to  unite  herself  in  marriage  with  a  nobleman 


168  WEALTH  AND    WORTH  ;    OR, 

of  distinguished  rank.  She  thanks  me  for  the  mo 
ney  that  I  sent,  and  promises  to  devote  it  to  the  edu 
cation  of  my  child  ;  and  concludes  by  advising  me 
to  form  at  once  a  matrimonial  connexion  in  Ameri 
ca  more  suitable  to  my  station  and  prospects  in 
life  than  my  first  unfortunate  alliance.  You  may 
imagine  my  emotions,  my  dear  Harry,  on  reading 
this  extraordinary  communication.  The  hand 
writing  is  of  a  character  to  allay  all  suspicion  as 
to  its  genuineness.  I  have  compared  it  with  that 
of  several  letters  from  my  wife  in  my  possession, 
and  the  accordance  is  perfect.  But  the  internal 
evidence  tends  to  persuade  me  that  it  is  a  forgery. 
Never,  till  I  hear  it  from  her  own  lips,  will  I  be 
convinced  that  she  could  have  penned  so  heartless 
an  epistle.  I  am  now  hoarding  up  my  little  in 
come  to  enable  me  to  revisit  England.  My  anxi 
ety  to  return  is  so  intense  as  to  take  away  my  ap 
petite  and  affect  my  health.  But  my  best  pupils 
have  left  me  for  college,  and  money  comes  slowly 
in.  A  year  may  pass,  without  my  having  the 
means  to  go.  Let  us  hope  for  the  best,  however, 
my  dear  young  friend.  And  speaking  of  hope, 
how  is  Emmeline,  with  her  '  eyes  of  tender  gloom' 
and  her  flute-like  voice  ?  Tell  her  to  recollect  me 
kindly.  Remember  me  also  to  your  mother,  and 
believe  me  ever,  come  weal,  come  wo,  your  sin 
cere  friend, 

"  STANLEY  WAINBRIDGE." 

Immediately  on  perusing  this  letter,  Harry 
placed  it  in  his  pocket,  and  left  the  house  to  pay 
a  visit  to  Mr.  Brown. 

"  A  hard  case,  a  very  hard  case,  truly,"  said  Mr. 
Brown,  as  Harry  concluded  his  narration  of  Mr. 


WHICH    MAKES    THE    MAN?  169 

Wainbridge's  story.  ''  I  think  I  remember  Mr. 
Wainbridge — a  grave,  intelligent-looking  young 
man — was  he  not  ?  What  can  we  do  for  him  ? 
Humph !  Let  me  consider.  I  have  it !  Tom 
Asterly,  who  has  been  appointed  bearer  of  de 
spatches  to  the  court  of  St.  James,  and  who  ought 
to  start  by  the  next  English  steam-ship,  is  lying  ill 
at  the  Globe,  and  will  be  unable  to  go.  I  will  write 
on  to  my  friend  the  Secretary  of  State  at  once,  and 
request  him  to  transfer  the  commission  to  Wain- 
bridge.  It  shall  be  done." 

And  it  was  done  ;  and,  three  days  afterward, 
Harry  accompanied  his  former  tutor  in  a  carriage 
to  the  foot  of  Pike-street,  and  saw  him  embark  in 
the  Great  Western  for  Bristol.  Wainbridge  waved 
a  mute  farewell  from  the  deck.  His  gratitude  was 
too  deep  for  words. 


15 


170  WEALTH    AND    WORTH  ;    OR, 


CHAPTER  XIII. 

"  There  is  no  trace  of  thee  around, 

Beloved  !  in  this  abode  ; 
The  winds  sweep  o'er  the  silent  ground, 
Where  once  thy  footsteps  trode."— MRS.  NORTOIf. 

WHAT  revolutions  in  individual  affairs  as  well  as 
national  may  three  years  bring  about!  The  lapse 
of  that  space  of  time  in  the  life  of  Henry  Mave 
rick,  since  the  period  of  his  entering  upon  the 
practice  of  his  profession,  found  him  in  circum 
stances,  if  not  of  affluence,  of  pecuniary  compe 
tence  and  independence.  He  had  removed  with 
his  sister  and  mother  to  a  neat  house  in  Waverley 
Place.  His  society,  and  of  course  that  of  his 
family,  were  once  more  sought  after  by  the  weal 
thy  and  fashionable  with  solicitude.  Emmeline's 
rare  beauty  and  accomplishments  had  made  her 
unambitiously  and  unconsciously  a  belle,  and  the 
very  infrequency  of  her  attendance  at  balls  and 
parties,  increased  the  sensation  of  her  presence 
when  she  appeared.  In  the  character  of  Mrs. 
Maverick,  adversity  had  wrought  a  radical  change. 
She  had  learned  the  true  value  of  worldly  dis 
play,  and  the  hollowness  of  merely  fashionable 
and  conventional  friendships.  With  her  daughter 
she  would  now  often  revisit  the  scenes  where 
they  had  experienced  privation,  and  dispense  her 
charities  with  a  judicious  hand.  She  had  found 
friends  in  the  humbler  walks  of  life  during  her  ad- 


WHICH  MAKES  THE  MAN  ?        171 

versity,  and  these  she  did  not  forget,  when  bright 
er  fortunes  began  to  dawn.  Religion  was  now  her 
cheering  guide  and  her  open-eyed  counsellor. 

Harry's  partner,  Mr.  Trane,  had  availed  him 
self  of  his  change  of  circumstances  to  transplant 
a  whole  colony  of  poor  relations  to  the  city.  As 
they  were,  without  exception,  shrewd,  thrifty 
people,  he  soon  had  the  satisfaction  of  seeing  them 
rising  in  the  world,  while  to  him  they  looked  up 
as  to  a  common  benefactor. 

It  was  in  August,  a  month  when  our  eastern  cli 
mate  is  deliciously  clear  and  uniform,  that  Henry 
Maverick,  having  an  important  case  to  attend  to  in 
Boston,  visited  that  place  with  his  mother  and  sis 
ter.  A  verdict  was  rendered  in  his  client's  favor. 
His  business  was  accomplished.  Why  did  the 
young  lawyer  still  delay,  receiving,  as  he  daily  did, 
letters  from  his  partner,  begging  him  to  return,  as 
there  was  an  accumulation  of  business  that  de 
manded  his  attention  ? 

One  fair  sunny  day,  Harry  entered  a  private 
parlor  at  the  Tremont  House,  where  his  mother 
and  sister  were  sitting.  Emmeline  was  perusing 
a  newspaper  of  the  morning  ;  and  her  brother 
noticed,  as  he  glanced  at  her,  that  something  of 
more  than  ordinary  interest  had  excited  her  atten 
tion,  for  her  eyes  kindled,  and  her  cheek  flushed 
as  she  read. 

"  What  is  the  news,  Emmeline  ?" 

"  Listen,"  replied  she,  "  to  the  praises  of  one  of 
your  friends  :  '  A  letter  from  Florence,  published 
in  the  London  Athenaeum,  states  that  a  young 
American  sculptor  named  Clare  is  attracting  great 
attention  by  his  productions.  His  studio  is  daily 
thronged  by  people  of  taste.  An  exquisite  bust 


172 


WEALTH    AND    WORTH  ;    OR, 


of  the  Countess  Montelli  from  his  chisel  has  been 
pronounced,  by  the  great  Thorwalsden,  masterly 
both  in  execution  and  design.  An  English  noble 
man  of  wealth  has  ordered  busts  in  marble  of  his 
whole  family,  which  will  give  the  young  artist  lu 
crative  employment  for  some  time  !'  " 

"  I  thank  you,"  said  Harry,  "  for  the  interest 
you  take  in  '  one  of  my  friends,'  my  dear.  Of 
course  it  is  a  subject  of  great  indifference  to  you. 
That  is  easily  seen.  Seriously,  I  am  rejoiced  to 
hear  of  Theodore's  success.  Let  me  look  at  the 
newspaper.  Why,  Emmeline,  you  have  overlook 
ed  another  item,  hardly  less  interesting  :  '  From 
the  London  Morning  Post — The  examination  into 
the  conduct  of  Sir  William  Ormsby,  accused  of 
cheating  at  cards  at  Crockford's,  has  resulted  in  a 
report  inculpatory  of  that  unfortunate  nobleman. 
He  is  distinctly  proved  to  have  been  guilty  of  the 
baseness,  and  has  of  course  been  compelled  to 
disgorge  the  immense  sums  which  he  recently 
won  from  young  Fitznoodle.  Sir  William  left 
yesterday  for  the  continent.  We  learn  that  in 
consequence  of  his  dishonorable  conduct,  his  ma 
ternal' uncle,  John  Bullion,  Esq.,  who  recently  ar 
rived  in  this  country  from  Calcutta,  has  expunged 
his  name  from  his  will,  leaving  his  immense  pro 
perty  to  Mrs.  Wainbridge,  a  sister  of  Sir  William, 
and  wife  of  Stanley  Wainbridge,  Esq.,  whose 
mathematical  works  have  excited  some  attention 
among  scholars.  There  is  a  tale  of  family  perse 
cution  and  tyranny,  involved  in  the  history  of  the 
now  fortunate  pair,  which  it  is  hardly  proper  to  lay 
before  the  public.' — News  enough  for  one  day  !  Is 
it  not,  Emmeline  ?" 

"  And  what  pleasant  news  too !    I  am  delighted 


WHICH   MAKES   THE   MAN  1  173 

at  Wainbridge's  good  fortune.  How  I  would  like 
to  see  one  of  his  busts  !" 

"I  wasn't  aware  that  my  friend  Wainbridge 
had  talents  that  way.  How  long  has  he  practised 
the  art  ?" 

"  Oh,  I  was  thinking  of — you  know  who  I 
meant." 

"  It  is  my  turn  now,"  said  Mrs.  Maverick,  "  to 
look  at  the  newspaper.  I  wonder  if  I  can  hit  upon 
anything  strange  or  interesting.  Listen  to  this  : 
'  The  Confucius,  which  arrived  at  this  port  yes 
terday  from  Canton,  brings  information  that  the 
Whampoa,  Captain  Linzee,  was  to  sail  the  week 
following  the  date  of  her  departure.  Mr.  Clare,  of 
the  American  house  of  Barrow,  Clare,  &  Co.,  had 
taken  passage  for  this  port  in  the  latter  ship,  which 
may  now  be  daily  expected.'  That  interests  you, 
Harry  ;  does  it  not  V 

"  Yes,  I  know  of  no  one  I  would  like  better  to 
see  than  Edwin  Clare.  And  now,  mother,  if  you 
have  no  more  astonishing  news  to  read  to  us,  we 
will  get  ready  for  a  drive  to  Nahant." 

The  proposal  was  joyfully  acceded  to.  Em- 
meline  had  never  seen  Nahant.  How  she  enjoy 
ed  the  novel  scene,  as,  in  an  open  barouche,  they 
were  borne  over  the  smooth,  wet  sand,  which  glit 
tered  like  a  mirror  beneath  the  horses'  feet !  Leav 
ing  his  mother  and  sister  at  the  hotel  in  the  society 
of  -some  acquaintances,  Harry  engaged  a  saddle- 
horse,  and  rode  at  full  speed  in  the  direction  of 
Capeville.  As  he  approached  the  little  cottage, 
once  occupied  by  the  Clares,  he  drew  in  his  bri 
dle,  and  proceeded  at  a  gentler  pace.  How  fa 
miliar  and  unchanged  everything  seemed  !  More 
than  six  crowded  years  had  rolled  by  since  his 
15* 


174  WEALTH   AND   WORTH  J  OR, 

transient  visit  to  that  spot ;  yet  how  vivid  was 
every  recollection  connected  with  it !  There  was 
the  slight  curve  in  the  road,  where  he  had  first 
seen  Ellen  Clare,  "  on  a  bright  spring  morning,  long 
ago."  There  was  the  old  apple-tree  ;  and  there 
the  very  twig,  where  a  blue-bird  had  alighted, 
which  he  had  pointed  out  to  his  companion.  The 
cottage  too  seemed  unaltered,  save  that  the  blinds 
and  windows  were  closed,  and  no  sign  of  any  in 
mates  appeared. 

Harry  dismounted  with  a  beating  heart,  and,  al 
lowing  his  horse  to  crop  the  grass  that  grew  rank 
along  the  side  of  the  fence,  he  passed  through  the 
little  "front  yard,"  andknocked  with  his  riding-whip 
at  the  door.  No  one  answered  his  summons.  It 
was  evident  that  the  house  was  vacated.  Look 
ing  back  over  the  road  by  which  he  had  passed, 
he  beheld  a  female  at  some  distance,  watching  his 
movements  with  intense  interest.  The  ribands  of 
her  cap  were  streaming  in  the  wind.  A  red  shawl 
was  flung  with  a  carelessness  by  no  means  pic 
turesque  about  her  neck  ;  and  a  pair  of  shears 
swung  at  her  girdle. 

Hoping  to  obtain  some  information  from  this  per 
son,  in  regard  to  the  object  of  his  search,  Harry 
remounted  his  horse,  to  seek  an  interview.  The 
female  fled.  He  followed,  however,  at  a  fast  trot, 
and  saw  her  scud  into  a  little  shop  by  the  way-side. 
Tying  his  horse  at  a  neighboring  post,  he  entered 
the  shop.  The  mysterious  figure  in  the  red  shawl 
was  no  less  a  person  than  our  old  acquaintance, 
Miss  Snim,  who,  in  consequence  of  her  inordinate 
passion  for  attending  to  everybody's  business  but 
her  own,  had,  since  we  last  met  her,  grown  some 


WHICH    MAKES    THE    MAN  ?  175 

seven  years  older  without  becoming  richer  by  a 
dollar. 

"  Well,  I  guess  you  didn't  find  her  in,  did  you  1" 
said  Miss  Snim,  as  Harry  made  his  appearance. 

"  Your  surmise  is  correct,"  replied  Harry.  "  I 
wish  you  to  give  me  all  the  information  in  your 
possession  in  regard  to  her.  The  last  time  I  heard 
of  her,  she  was  living  at  the  cottage  in  the  family 
of  a  Mr.  Williams,  a  clergyman." 

"  You  needn't  tell  me  that.  I  know  all  about  it. 
You  saw  her  younger  brother  in  New  York." 

"  Where  is  she  now  ?" 

"  How  should  I  know  ?  You  had  better  ask 
Zeke  Stillwood,  or  Eben  Jones,  or  some  other  one 
of  her  beaus." 

"  What  a  becoming  cap  that  is  of  yours,  Miss 
Snim  ! — but  why  do  you  wear  it  ?  Will  it  not  be 
time  enough  twenty  years  hence  to  don  such  a 
matronly  head-dress  ?" 

"  La,  now,  do  you  really  think  so,  sir  ?  I  have 
often  thought  of  throwing  it  by  altogether." 

"  Do  it,  by  all  means,  Miss  Snim.  When  you 
get  to  be  forty  you  may  begin  to  think  of  such 
things.  I  was  hoping  you  could  give  me  some 
little  information  in  regard  to  Miss  Clare,  as  I  take 
an  interest  in  the  family.  But  I  see  you  are  ig 
norant" — 

"  Ignorant !  Pray  sit  down,  sir.  I  will  tell  you 
all  I  know,  and  to  be  sure  that  isn't  much.  Well : 
after  she  had  fitted  out  Theodore  and  seen  him  off, 
she  came  back  to  Capeville  with  just  thirty-three 
dollars  sixty-seven  and  a  half  cents  in  her  pocket- 
book,  which  was  all  she  had  in  the  world.  With 
what  she  earned  at  straw-platting,  she  made  this 
last  her  a  couple  of  years,  paying  her  board  and  sub- 


176  WEALTH    AND    WORTH  J    OR, 

scribing  one  dollar  thirty-three  cents  and  three 
quarters  to  the  Dorcas  Society.  But  a  new  fash 
ion  of  bonnets  comes  up  last  year,  and  straw-plat 
ting  gets  to  be  a  poor  business,  and  then  poorer  and 
poorer,  until  no  work  was  to  be  had.  Nell's  purse 
began  to  get  pretty  light,  and  she  was  thinking 
last  month  of  letting  herself  out  as  help,  when  who 
should  come  to  Capeville,  but" — 

"  But — well  ?  Why  do  you  stop  ?  Go  on  !  go 
ot  good  woman." 

"  Good  woman  indeed !  I  would  have  you  to 
know,  sir" — 

"  Indeed,  Miss  Snim,  I  beg  your  pardon  most 
humbly.  You  are  not  a  good  woman.  It  was  my 
grandmother  that  was.  Pray  continue  your  narra 
tive.  '  When  who  should  come  to  Capeville, 
but?'"— 

"  But  Mr.  Williams's  son  from  some  place  away 
off,  west  of  sundown — Iowa,  I  think  they  call  it. 
That's  neither  here  nor  there,  however." 
"  Well,  well !  Mr.  Williams's  son"— 
"  Why,  what  does  he  come  here  for,  but  to  take 
his  father  and  mother  and  his  sisters  and  brothers, 
bag  and  baggage,  out  to  Iowa,  where  he  has  a 
whole  town  of  his  own,  with  a  grist-mill  and  every 
thing  comfortable.  Well :  finding  a  pretty  girl, 
like  Ellen — though  as  for  the  matter  of  beauty,  I 
must  say,  I  could  never  see  anything  so  mighty 
superior  about  her  ;  and  I  shall  believe  to  my  dy 
ing  day,  that  there  was  something  besides  nat'ral 
color" — 

"  We  will  not  stop  to  discuss  that  point  now, 
Miss  Snim.     What  of  Williams  V 

"  What  should  he  do  but  fall  in  love  with  Nell, 
and  offer  himself — 


WHICH    MAKES    THE    MAN  ?  177 

"  She  didn't  accept  him  1  No,  no  !  I  am  sure 
she  didn't :  she  never  could  think  of  accepting 
such  a  fellow  as  Williams  ;  a  vulgar,  ill-looking" — 

"  So  !     You  have  seen  him  ?" 

"  No.     Perhaps  I  do  him  injustice  ?" 

"  Indeed  you  do.  He  is  a  very  nice-looking 
young  man,  I  can  tell  you ;  and  Miss  Nell  may 
think  herself  lucky  enough,  if  she  gets  him.  Be 
sides,  he's  well  off  in  the  world,  and" — 

"  But  tell  me  directly,  without  any  more  circum 
locution,  are  they  married  ?  Are  they  engaged  ?" 

"  How  should  I  know  ?" 

"  What  has  become  of  her  ?  Tell  me,  or  I'll — 
Tell  me,  that's  a  dear — girl." 

Miss  Snim  was  propitiated  by  the  last  mono 
syllable,  and  replied :  "  All  I  know  is,  that  the 
whole  family,  Ellen  with  them,  went  off,  about  a 
month  ago,  to  Boston,  since  which  I  haven't  been, 
able  to  trace  any  of  their  movements." 

"  But  do  you  really  think  that  Ellen  consented 
to  marry  that  fellow  Williams  ?" 

"  I  do  indeed.  What  could  she  expect  better  ? 
Here  she  was,  a  lonely  girl,  with  but  five  dollars 
in  her  pocket-book,  after  paying  her  last  week's 
board,  and  nothing  to  look  forward  to  but  going 
into  somebody's  kitchen  for  a  living.  A  very 
sensible  thing  it  would  be  for  her  to  reject  such 
an  offer,  to  be  sure  !" 

Harry  groaned  almost  audibly,  as  Miss  Snim 
have  utterance  to  this  not  unreasonable  conviction ; 
and  handing  her  a  dollar,  with  the  request  that 
she  would  contribute  it  in  her  own  name  to  the 
Dorcas  Society,  he  sprang  once  more  upon  the 
saddle,  and,  in  no  very  enviable  frame  of  mind, 
rode  back  to  Nahant.  I  am  credibly  informed, 


178 


WEALTH    AND    WORTH  ;    OR, 


that  on  his  way  he  was  guilty  of  the  following 
sonnet — a  dereliction  which,  as  a  faithful  chroni 
cler,  I  must  record.  0  Harry  Maverick  !  When 
will  you  learn  to  put  by  childish  things  ?  I  am 
almost  disposed  to  give  you  up  after  this  : — 

"  Brief  was  our  meeting ;  and  my  heart  knew  not 
How  deep  the  impress  of  thy  image  lay. 
Long  silent  years  since  then  have  lapsed  away, 

And  I  have  toiled  to  reach  a  fairer  lot — 

In  the  stern  struggle,  tenderer  hopes  forgot ! 
But  now,  the  dawn  of  a  diviner  day 
Has  waked  the  patient  statue  with  its  ray, 

And  clothed  with  bloom  the  once  abandoned  spot. 
Love,  from  his  fetters  breaking,  looks  for  thee ! 

Where  art  thou,  maiden  of  the  earnest  eyes  ? 

I  seek  thy  humble  cot — no  voice  replies, 

Save  the  hoarse  murmur  of  the  neighboring  sea, 
And  the  low  rustle  of  thy  favorite  tree, 

Chiming  an  echo  to  my  own  heart's  sighs  !" 

Well !  we  must  bear  with  such  foibles.  Who 
knows  but  he  may  be  struck  poetical  himself  some 
day? 

That  evening  the  Mavericks  returned  to  Boston, 
and  it  was  agreed,  in  family  conclave,  that  they 
should  tarry  a  brief  time  longer  in  the  tri-moun- 
tainous  city. 


WHICH   MAKES   THE   MAN?  179 


CHAPTER  XIV. 

"  Call  me  a  fool ; 

Trust  not  my  reading,  nor  my  observations, 
If  this  sweet  lady  lie  not  guiltless  here 
Under  some  biting  error." 

SHAKSPEARE. 

THE  sound  of  music  and  dancing  from  one  of 
the  most  elegant  private  mansions  in  Boston,  pro 
claimed  that  a  ball  of  some  magnitude  was  in  pro 
gress.  Carriage  after  carriage  would  stop  before 
the  door,  yield  up  its  daintily  dressed  inmates,  and 
roll  away.  Notwithstanding  the  season  was  one, 
when  those,  whom  leisure  and  affluence  permit, 
generally  forsake  the  dust  and  heat  of  the  city  for 
the  pleasures  of  the  country,  there  was  a  large  as 
semblage  of  what  a  coxcomb  would  call  "  the  right 
sort  of  people"  at  Mrs.  Marbury's.  As  the  ball 
was  given  in  honor  principally  of  the  Mavericks, 
Harry  and  his  sister  were  of  course  present.  He 
had  the  evening  before  addressed  a  large  political 
meeting,  and  won  the  favorable  opinions  of  his 
audience  by  his  animated  and  graceful  style  of 
eloquence.  The  newspapers  of  the  day  were 
prolific  in  his  praises.  He  was,  not  unmeritedly, 
the  observed  of  all  observers,  for  the  moment,  in 
society.  A  knowledge  of  his  brief  but  brilliant 
career  stimulated  the  general  curiosity  to  see  and 
hear  him. 

At  the  ball,  however,  he  was  far  from  being  in 


180  WEALTH    AND    WORTH  ;    OR, 

a  mood  to  enjoy  festivity.  His  thoughts  would 
wander  to  other  objects  and  other  scenes.  He 
seemed  to  have  lost  the  faculty,  which  usually 
distinguished  him,  of  concentrating  his  attention 
upon  minute  topics  as  well  as  great — of  catching, 
ere  it  faded,  "the  Cynthia  of  the  minute."  He  was 
dreaming  of  Ellen  Clare — rebuking  himself  for 
not  having  made  earlier  inquiries  in  regard  to  her 
fate.  She  was  now,  in  all  probability,  the  wife  of 
Williams,  and  on  her  way  to  the  far  west,  to  make 
happy  some  log  cabin  in  the  wilderness.  Hang 
Williams  !  Why  couldn't  she  have  waited  a  little 
longer  ?  Why  need  she  have  been  in  such  a  haste 
to  get  married  ?  Well :  were  there  not  maidens 
as  fair  1  Look  at  those  now  whirling  in  the  giddy 
waltz,  to  the  sound  of  delightful  tunes  from  the 
last  new  opera.  Pshaw !  Is  that  a  place  to  look 
to  for  a  wife  1 

"  Do  you  not  dance,  Mr.  Maverick  ?"  said  a 
delicate  voice  at  his  side. 

"  I  must  be  excused  this  evening,  Miss  Am  well. 
Indeed,  I  do  not  waltz  at  any  time." 

"  Is  it  possible  ?  I  thought  that  the  waltz  was 
the  only  allowable  dance  now  at  your  New  York 
assemblies.  I  hope  you  have  no  primitive  notions 
as  to  its  impropriety  ?" 

"  I  entertain  most  decided  objections  to  it." 

"  Then  it  is  because  you  cannot  waltz.  You 
have  never  practised  it,  or  it  makes  you  dizzy  ? 
Did  you  ever  hear  of  a  good  waltzer's  finding  fault 
with  the  practice  ?" 

"  I  have  seen  many  a  good  waltzer,  who,  how 
ever  fond  he  might  be  of  the  exercise  himself,  was 
made  very  uncomfortable  when  the  lady  to  whom 
he  was  attached  accepted  an  invitation  to  join  in 


WHICH    MAKES    THE    MAN  1  181 

•    » 

it  from  another  gentleman.     I  consider  it  an  im 
modest  dance." 

"  Honi  soit  qui  mat  y  pense — Evil  to  him  who 
evil  thinks.  It  is  the  idea  attached  to  it,  and  not 
the  practice  itself,  that  is  culpable." 

"  But  is  not  the  practice  father  of  the  idea  ?  I 
am  aware  that  habit  and  education  will  make  in 
nocent,  manners  and  modes  of  dress,  that  in  cer 
tain  states  of  society  would  be  considered  inde 
cent.  The  female  of  the  South  Sea  Islands  has 
as  nice  a  sense  of  modesty  as  the  most  fastidious 
lady  of  our  acquaintance,  and  yet  the  South  Sea 
Islander  would  be  arrested  as  a  lunatic  should  she 
appear  in  our  streets  in  the  costume  of  her  coun 
try.  But  all  those  conventional  observances,  with 
in  which  modesty  is  fenced,  in  civilized  society, 
seem  to  me  hostile  to  the  waltz.  It  is  an  anomaly. 
Its  tendency  is  impure." 

"  You  will  consider  me  very  courageous  or  very 
impracticable,  if,  after  your  homily,  I  accept  an  in 
vitation  for  the  next  waltz — will  you  not  ?" 

"  It  would  be  presumption  in  me  to  suppose  that 
I  had  made  you  a  convert  to  my  doctrine  so  soon." 

"  I  am  afraid  to  hear  any  more  of  your  arguments, 
lest  I  should  falter  in  my  fealty  to  the  waltz — the 
incomparable  waltz.  What  a  pretty  girl  is  your 
sister !  How  very  devoted  is  Mr.  Smug  !  He  is 
not  an  admirable  Crichton,  but  then  he  is  what  I 
fear  is  more  attractive  to  many  of  our  young  la 
dies — a  millionaire.  I  hear  he  has  a  fine  cage  in 
your  city,  all  gilt,  and  ready  for  a  singing-bird.  By 
the  way,  Mr.  Maverick,  there  is  a  whisper  con 
cerning  yourself  about  the  room,  which,  I  am  half 
inclined  to  suspect  is  true." 

"  What  is  it  ?" 

16 


182  WEALTH    AND    WORTH;    OR, 

"  They  say  that  you  are  here  after  a  wife.  Can 
it  be  that  you  are  so  unfashionable  as  to  think  of 
matrimony  ?" 

*'  Of  what  else  should  one  think  in  Miss  Arn- 
well's  presence  ?"  retorted  Harry,  bowing  and 
moving  away,  as  another  gentleman  came  up  to 
address  the  lady. 

"  Miss  Danton  of  New  York,"  said  Mrs.  Mar- 
bury,  introducing  a  lady,  showily  dressed  in  white 
satin  trimmed  with  silver  cords  and  tassels. 

"  We  have  met  before,  if  I  recollect,"  said  Miss 
Danton. 

"  That  is  a  circumstance  which  I  have  not  the 
bad  taste  to  forget,"  replied  Harry,  who  remem 
bered  having  seen  her  often  at  Eagleswood,  when 
"  hollow  fortune  called  him  favorite." 

"  How  delightful  to  renew  the  acquaintance 
ships  of  our  early  years,"  sighed  Miss  Danton, 
who,  having  heard  that  Harry  had  a  dash  of  poetry 
in  his  composition,  had  resolved  to  commence 
storming  the  citadel  at  one  of  its  weak  points. 

"  Very  delightful !"  quoth  Harry. 

"  Pray  have  you  heard  the  shocking  news  about 
poor  Arabella  Hard  worth  ?" 

"  No.  What  is  it  ?" 

"  Why,  that  Count  Caperelli,  whom  she  has  mar 
ried,  turns  out  to  be  an  English  prize-fighter,  the 
son  of  a  Jewish  dealer  in  old  clothes  in  Monmouth- 
street." 

"  No  matter.  The  count  waltzes  enchantingly, 
and  is  a  capital  judge  of  Burgundy." 

"  You  are  misanthropic  to-night." 

"  What  has  become  of  our  old  acquaintance  Miss 
Sumpter  ?" 

"  Have  you  not  heard  ?     It  is  really  too  provok- 


WHICH   MAKES    THE   MAN  ?  183 

ing.  She  married  young  Ermine — her  mother  be 
lieving  him  to  be  abundantly  rich.  But  it  turns 
out  that  he  has  squandered  all  his  immense  prop 
erty,  and  is  now  actually  dependant  upon  his 
mother-in-law,  without  a  profession,  and  with  habits 
of  expense  which  he  hasn't  sense  enough  to  con 
trol.  He  is,  moreover,  intemperate,  and  takes  lit 
tle  interest  in  anything  but  horse-racing." 

"  The  Sumpters  thought  more  of  wealth  than 
worth.  They  are  reaping  the  consequence." 

"  By  the  way,  your  old  enemy,  Ravenstone 
Hardworth,  is  here  to-night." 

"Indeed!" 

"  Yes.  Do  you  not  see  him  talking  to  the  lady 
in  blue  ?  That  is  Miss  Van  Rapp,  to  whom  he 
is  engaged.  They  have  been  on  a  visit  to  Nahant. 
The  lady  is  wealthy  ;  there  is  a  rumor,  however, 
that  old  Hardworth  has  lost  largely  by  the  depre 
ciation  of  United  States  Bank  stock.  You  are 
aware  that  he  has  sold  Eagleswood  ?" 

"  Not  at  all.  You  are  better  than  a  newspaper, 
Miss  Danton." 

Here  a  young  gentleman  with  very  white  kid 
gloves  on  his  hand,  a  very  flashy  waistcoat,  and 
very  tight  pantaloons,  came  up  and  begged  the 
honor  of  Miss  Danton's  hand  for  a  cotillon.  The 
lady  looked  at  Harry,  as  if  to  ask,  Shall  I  not  tell 
him  I  am  engaged  to  you  ?  But  Harry  did  not 
seem  disposed  to  encourage  any  such  deception, 
and  the  lady,  with  evident  reluctance,  permitted 
herself  to  be  led  away.  Harry  took  his  seat  upon 
a  tabouret  in  the  recess  of  one  of  the  windows, 
and,  while  the  scene  of  gayety  went  on  before  his 
eyes,  allowed  his  perplexed  thoughts  to  wander 
back  to  his  few  brief  interviews  with  one,  whose 


184  WEALTH    AND    WORTH;    OR, 

image  rose  to  his  memory  far  brighter  than  any  of 
the  living  faces  which  reality  now  presented.  The 
next  day  he  was  to  return  to  New  York '  He 
must  then  abandon  all  hope  of  seeing  her.  Of 
seeing  whom  ? — her,  who  was  probably  Mrs.  Wil 
liams  by  this  time  !  Bitter  was  the  supposition  '. 

For  nearly  an  hour,  Harry  retained  his  solitary 
seat,  shaded  partly  from  observation  by  one  of  the 
thick  muslin  curtains  that  were  festooned  before 
the  window.  The  cessation  of  the  music  roused 
him  from  his  re  very.  He  started  up.  The  last 
of  the  dancers  were  leaving  the  apartment.  His 
glance  fell  on  the  white  marble  hearth.  Some 
thing  like  a  spark  of  fire  attracted  his  notice.  No, 
it  was  the  glitter  of  a  gem.  Stooping,  he  picked 
up  a  diamond  breast-pin.  Who  could  have  drop 
ped  it  1  There  was  an  inscription  on  the  gold.  It 
consisted  of  the  initials,  "  H.  V.  R."  It  must  be 
long  to  Miss  Van  Rapp,  whom  he  had  seen  stand 
ing  by  the  fire-place. 

Hastening  to  find  the  owner  of  the  jewel,  Har 
ry  entered  the  supper-room.  It  was  occupied 
chiefly  by  young  men,  who  were  busily  engaged  at 
a  table  spread  with  various  wines  and  viands. 

"  Come  in,  Maverick.  Here  is  a  capital  pate  de 
foie  gras." 

"  Allow  me  the  pleasure  of  a  glass  of  wine  with 
you,  Maverick.  Do  you  take  Burgundy  or  cham 
pagne  ?" 

"  Will  you  not  try  some  Charlotte  Russe  or  some 
ice  ?" 

"  Away  with  your  sillabub  dishes  !  Try  these 
woodcocks,  Maverick." 

"  Here  is  some  of  Marbury's  Charleston  Ma- 


WHICH    MAKES    THE    MAN  ?  185 

delta.  Taste  it,  Maverick,  if  you  would  know  what 
nectar  is." 

To  all  these  invitations,  Maverick  replied  :  "  I 
am  in  search  of  a  lady  to  restore  a  jewel  she  has 
dropped.  You  must  excuse  me."  And  he  hur 
ried  up  stairs  to  the  room  where  the  ladies  were 
resuming  their  shawls  to  return  home.  As  he 
knocked  at  the  door,  he  heard  the  shrill  voice  of 
Miss  Van  Rapp  exclaim  :  "  I  am  sure  I  left  it  pin 
ned  upon  the  scarf  thrown  into  my  calash  ;  and  if, 
as  you  say,  no  other  servant  but  yourself  has  been 
in  the  room,  I  must  hold  you  accountable  for  the 
theft." 

"  I  will  stake  my  life  on  her  truth,"  said  the 
sweet  musical  voice  of  Emmeline  Maverick,  in 
reply.  "  Is  it  not  far  more  probable,  Miss  Van 
Rapp,  that  you  dropped  the  jewel  by  the  way,  or 
that  you  did  not  bring  it  with  you  ?" 

"  Nonsense  !  Ravenstone  assures  me  that  he 
saw  it  about  my  person  before  we  left  the  Tremont 
House.  The  interest  you  profess  to  take  in  this 
young  person  shall  not  screen  her  from  justice.  If 
she  persists  in  denying  her  knowledge  of  the  theft, 
we  must  summon  a  police-officer  to  inquire  into 
the  business.  The  diamond  is  worth  a  hundred 
dollars,  and  I  have  no  idea  of  giving  it  up  out  of 
any  sentimental  whim." 

**  You  suspect  her  wrongfully,"  exclaimed  Em 
meline,  with  unwonted  animation.  "  Can  you  not 
discern  innocence  from  guilt?" 

"  Yes,  I  can  ;  and  if  she  didn't  stand  there  look 
ing  me  in  the  face,  bold  as  a  princess,  without 
speaking  a  word,  I  might  think  my  suspicion  was 
erroneous.  But  she  would  never  be  so  cool  and 
quiet,  were  she  not  a  hardened  offender.  Come, 
16* 


186  WEALTH  AND   WORTH;   OR, 

girl,  give  me  back  the  jewel,  and  we  will  ask  Mrs. 
Marbury  to  pardon  you." 

"Are  you  quite  certain,  my  dear  Miss  Van 
Rapp,"  said  the  soft,  indecisive  voice  of  Mrs.  Mar- 
bury — "  are  you  quite  certain  that  you  left  the  jew 
el  in  your  calash  1" 

"  I  am  positive,  madam,  quite  positive  ;  for  it 
was  only  last  week  that  I  committed  the  same  im 
prudence  ;  and  I  remember  perfectly  taking  the 
jewel  out  of  its  casket  this  evening." 

"  I  am  unwilling  to  suspect  my  maid  of  taking 
it.  She  came  to  me  not  more  than  a  month  since 
with  the  highest  recommendations  from  a  respect 
able  country  clergyman.  I  think  you  must  be  mis 
taken." 

"  Here  is  the  scarf  to  which  I  left  it  pinned.  No 
other  servant  has  been  in  the  room.  The  circum 
stances  will  warrant  my  having  a  police  officer 
here,"  said  Miss  Van  Rapp,  who  hoped  to  frighten 
the  accused  girl  into  a  confession. 

Unwilling  to  intrude  into  the  apartment  of  the 
ladies,  Harry  stood  knocking  at  the  door,  but  the 
din  of  voices  within  was  now  such  that  nobody 
attended  to  his  summons. 

"  You  persist  in  denying  having  taken  it,  do 
you  ?"  exclaimed  Miss  Van  Rapp. 

"  I  have  condescended  to  deny  it  once,"  said  the 
low,  firm  voice  of  the  accused,  "  and  I  now  deny 
it  again.  If  you  choose  to  presume  so  far  upon 
my  unprotected  situation  as  to  insult  me  further, 
I  shall  answer  no  more  of  your  questions,  but 
await  the  legal  investigation  which  you  threaten." 

"  What  is  your  name  ?" 

"  Ellen  Clare." 

At  the  first  sound  of  Ellen's  voice,  Maverick 


WHICH   MAKES   THE   MAN  ?  187 

had  been  struck  with  an  emotion  which  was  un 
intelligible  ;  but  when  the  name  fell  upon  his  ear, 
his  heart  beat  so  violently,  that  he  was  obliged  to 
wait  a  moment  at  the  door  to  rally  his  energies. 

"  I  think  I  will  go  for  an  officer,"  said  Raven- 
stone  Hardworth,  whom  Harry  had  not  imagined 
to  be  in  the  room. 

Pushing  open  the  door,  Maverick  now  entered 
without  any  further  ceremony.  The  first  object  his 
glance  fell  upon  was  Ellen  Clare,  supported,  by 
Emmeline.  The  face  of  the  accused  was  pale, 
but  the  fire  of  conscious  truth  was  in  her  eyes,  ir 
radiating  every  feature.  As  she  saw  Maverick,  a 
visible  change  came  over  her  entire  aspect.  The 
color  returned  to  her  cheeks.  A  smile  of  welcome 
played  upon  her  lips.  She  seemed  to  have  forgot 
ten  wholly  the  disagreeable  scene  through  which 
she  had  just  passed,  and  started  to  receive  his 
proffered  hand,  as  if  it  were  a  link  to  old  memo 
ries  of  joy  and  sunshine. 

"  What  is  the  meaning  of  all  this  ?"  muttered 
Hardworth,  raising  his  eye-glass. 

"  You  shall  see,  sir,"  replied  Maverick,  as,  ad 
vancing,  he  addressed  Miss  Van  Rapp  :  "  Here 
is  a  breast-pin  which  I  picked  up  three  minutes 
since  in  the  room  where  you  last  danced.  Have 
the  goodness  to  see  if  it  is  the  one  you  have 
missed." 

"  To  be  sure  it  is.  I  am  vastly  obliged — thank 
you,  Mr.  Maverick." 

A  general  exclamation  of  surprise,  indignation, 
and  rejoicing  was  heard  from  the  different  ladies 
in  the  room. 

"  I  thought  you  must  be  in  error  in  accusing 
Ellen,"  said  Mrs.  Marbury,  mildly. 


188  WEALTH    AND    WORTH;    OR, 

"  O,  it  was  very  natural,  under  the  circumstan 
ces,  that  I  should  suspect  her — was  it  not,  Raven- 
stone  ?"  returned  Miss  Van  Rapp. 

"  Certainly,  my  dear,"  replied  Ravenstone. 

"  Shame  !  shame  !  Ask  her  pardon,"  exclaim 
ed  several  voices.  "  Apologize  !" 

"  Apologize  to  her  ?  You  are  joking,  good  peo 
ple,"  said  Miss  Van  Rapp,  petulantly. 

"  She  sinned  against  bright  heaven,  and  violated 
its^sacred  signet,  in  accusing  her,"  said  Henry 
Maverick  ;  "  and  she  has  not  the  grace  to  acknowl 
edge  her  crime." 

"  Crime  !  You  shall  answer  for  this  language, 
sir,"  exclaimed  Hardworth. 

"  I  think  I  remember  you,  sir,"  said  Maverick, 
folding  his  arms  behind  him,  as  if  for  the  purpose 
of  keeping  them  out  of  the  way  of  mischief,  as  he 
advanced. 

"  You  shall  have  further  cause  to  remember 
me,"  replied  Hardworth,  with  bitterness  of  tone, 
but  falling  back  as  if  from  an  instinctive  apprehen 
sion  that  his  old  antagonist  was  about  to  handle 
him  roughly. 

Harry  returned  once  more  to  Ellen,  and  took 
her  by  the  hand. 

"  The  gentleman  seems  on  remarkably  familiar 
terms,  considering  she  is  a  nursery-maid,"  remark 
ed  Miss  Van  Rapp,  with  a  forced,  disagreeable 
laugh. 

"  Yes,  miss,  and  I  wish  that  you  were  on  the 
same  terms  with  good-breeding,"  said  Maverick. 
"  But  to  show  you  how  far  my  familiarity  is  min 
gled  with  admiration  and  respect,  I  here  declare 
myself  a  suiter  for  the  young  lady's  hand." 

Poor  Ellen  had  sustained  herself  up  to  this  time 


WHICH  MAKES  THE  MAN?         189 

•with  the  heroism  of  a  martyr,  but  this  avowal,  sud 
den,  unexpected,  and  yet  delightful  as  it  was, 
overcame  her  so  far,  that  with  a  slight  exclama 
tion  of  surprise,  she  sank  insensible  into  the  arm 
—it  was  Emmeline's — that  encircled  her  waist. 

I  have  always  said  that  Maverick  was  an  im 
pulsive  fellow,  and  his  conduct  on  this  occasion, 
convinces  me  that  I  was  right.  Why  couldn't  he 
have  waited  till  the  company  were  gone  ?  Why 
need  he  make  so  delicate  a  declaration  so  abrupt 
ly  and  so  publicly  ?  Possibly  there  were  young 
ladies  present,  who  had  designs  of  their  own  upon 
his  heart.  What  a  shock  to  them,  as  well  as  to 
the  elected  one,  must  his  extraordinary  avowal 
have  been  !  I  will  not  attempt  the  slightest  pal 
liation  of  his  conduct.  I  agree  with  my  respecta 
ble  aunt,  Miss  Fossil,  that  it  was  "  decidedly  in 
bad  taste."  To  be  sure,  it  involved  no  moral  ob 
liquity.  But,  it  has  always  struck  me,  there  was 
something  in  it  theatrical  and  melodramatic.  I 
may  do  Harry  injustice,  but  this  is  my  opinion, 
and,  as  a  candid  biographer,  I  do  not  hesitate  to 
express  it.  I  am  credibly  informed,  however,  that 
the  scene  was,  at  the  time,  a  hit.  It  took 
everybody  by  surprise,  and  was  followed  by  a 
murmur  of  applause  from  all  except  Hardworth 
and  Miss  Van  Rapp.  Several  ladies  among  the 
audience  were  affected  to  tears.  I  can  believe 
it.  Young  ladies  are  apt  to  be  captivated  by  a  dis 
play  of  generous  enthusiasm  ;  and,  where  there  is 
a  dash  of  romance  in  the  exhibition,  as  in  the  pre 
sent  case,  so  much  the  more  ardent  is  their  sym 
pathy.  But  sober  people,  like  aunt  Fossil  and 
myself,  can  only  shake  their  heads  at  such  rhapso- 


190  WEALTH    AND    WORTH,  OR, 

dies,  and  thank  their  stars  that  they  have  arrived 
at  years  of  discretion. 

The  day  after  the  ball,  three  little  incidents  occur 
red  which  it  may  be  well  to  record  in  this  place  : 
Edwin  Clare  arrived  from  Canton — Henry  Mav 
erick  was  united  in  marriage  to  Ellen  Clare — and, 
two  hours  afterward,  a  challenge  was  received  by 
the  bridegroom  from  Ravenstone  Hardworth. 

Edwin  Clare  had  returned  in  fine  health  and 
spirits.  Still  he  had  not  been  fortunate  in  busi 
ness.  The  house  of  Barrow  &  Clare  had  been 
embarrassed  for  a  time  in  consequence  of  a  sudden 
and  unlooked-for  fall  in  teas.  But  what  of  that  ? 
He  had  come  to  settle  with  their  creditors  cent  for 
cent.  No  man  was  to  be  a  loser  by  their  misfor 
tunes.  The  credit  of  the  house  would  soon  be  re 
vived,  and  a  few  prosperous  seasons  would  make 
them  independent.  At  the  Tremont  House,  Edwin 
learned,  to  his  surprise  and  gratification,  that  his 
sister  was  to  be  married  to  his  old  friend  and  class 
mate.  What  a  grasp  of  the  hand  was  that  with 
which  he  welcomed  Henry  Maverick  ! 

The  wedding  passed  off  gay ly.  Ernmeline  seem 
ed  thoroughly  delighted  with  her  new  sister-in- 
law  ;  and  Mrs.  Maverick  manifested  hardly  less 
satisfaction  and  pleasure.  The  bride  was  simply 
attired  in  white.  A  few  natural  buds  and  flowers 
were  her  only  ornaments.  To  Harry's  eyes  she 
seemed  more  charming  than  ever.  Time  had  more 
than  confirmed  the  promises  of  girlhood.  What  a 
preservative  of  beauty  is  a  cheerful,  contented, 
hopeful,  religious  heart ! 

"  How  happened  it,  Ellen,"  asked  Harry,  "  that 
you  never  consented  to  become  Mrs.  Williams  ? 
Such  a  fright  as  I  got  from  your  amiable  friend, 


WHICH    MAKES    THE    MAN?  191 

Miss  Snim !  She  would  not  allow  me  a  peg 
whereon  to  hang  a  hope." 

"  How  happened  it,  sir,  that  you  had  the  assur 
ance  to  proclaim  yourself  my  suiter  before  so  many 
people,  as  if,  forsooth,  you  thought  it  was  an  im 
possibility  for  me  to  say  '  no'  to  your  offer  ?" 

"  1  could  tell  a  tale  about  both  of  you,"  said  Ed 
win  Clare,  "  which  would  prove  that,  by  your  own 
confessions  to  me,  some  six  years  ago,  each  of  you 
had  very  decided  designs  upon  the  other,  even  so 
far  back  as  then." 

"  Do  not  betray  secrets,  brother." 

The  conversation  was  interrupted  by  a  knock  at 
the  door.  A  servant  announced  that  a  gentleman 
wished  to  see  Mr.  Maverick  immediately  upon 
private  and  important  business.  Harry  went  out, 
and  was  encountered  by  a  young  man  with  a  cane, 
who  handed  him  a  note.  Opening  it  he  found  it 
to  be  an  invitation  from  Hardworth  to  meet  him 
with  pistols,  at  any  time  and  place  that  might  be 
agreeable. 

"  Your  friend  is  well  aware  that  I  am  no  duel 
list,"  said  Maverick,  returning  the  note. 

"  Am  I  to  understand  that  you  decline  giving 
him  satisfaction?"  returned  the  young  man.  "  A 
written  apology  will  answer  his  purpose,  if  you  do 
not  wish  to  fight." 

"  I  have  no  disposition  to  shoot  him,  and  certain 
ly  none  that  he  should  shoot  or  maim  me.  Why 
then  should  I  fight  ?" 

"  O,  then  you  prefer  to  apologize  ?" 

"  Certainly  not ;  for  I  could  not  conscientiously 
do  so." 

"  Are  you  aware  of  the  consequences  ?" 

"  Perhaps  not." 


192  WEALTH    AND    WORTH  J   OR, 

"  You  will  be  posted,  sir,  at  the  corners  of  the 
streets  as  a  poltroon." 

"  Well  ?" 

"  You  will  be  hooted  from  the  society  of  gentle 
men." 

«  Well  ?" 

"  You  will  be" — 

"  Well  ?" 

"  You  will  be  spurned  as  I  now  spurn  you," 
concluded  the  young  man,  tapping  him  lightly  with 
his  cane. 

"  Well  1  And  now  I  will  tell  you  what  my  own 
course  would  be  under  those  circumstances.  The 
posting  at  the  corners  of  the  streets  I  should  not 
notice,  for  if  any  persons  wished  to  attest  the  truth 
of  the  charge,  they  could  do  so,  almost  any  pleas 
ant  day,  in  Broadway  or  Wall-street.  The  being 
hooted  from  the  society  of  gentlemen  would  be 
much  more  tolerable  than  the  loss  of  my  own  self- 
respect  or  peace  of  mind  ;  and,  inasmuch  as  it 
would  be  quite  questionable  whether  they  were 
gentlemen  who  would  attempt  such  an  incivility, 
my  equanimity  would  not  be  disturbed.  As  for 
the  spurning  part  of  the  business — do  you  know 
how  I  should  answer  that  ?" 

"By  turning  on  your  heels,  most  probably." 

"  No  ;  supposing  the  individual  to  have  struck 
me  with  his  cane,  as  you  did, — " 

"  You  would  go  into  an  argument  touching  the 
propriety  of  non-resistance — eh  ?" 

"  No.  I  am  sorry  to  say,  I  am  not  quite  philoso 
pher  enough  for  that  yet.  There  is  so  much  of 
the  '  offending  Adam'  in  me  still,  that,  in  all  proba 
bility,  I  should,  in  the  first  place,  take  away  his 
cane,  thus !"  And  here  Harry  suited  the  action 


WHICH  MAKES  THE  MAN?         193 

to  the  word.  "  Then,  I  should  thrust  him  on  his 
knees,  thus ! — Then,  unless  he  sued  for  mercy, 
I  should  be  very  likely  to  pitch  him  tenderly  across 
the  street  out  of  the  way  of  my  fists,  thus  !  For  I 
should  be  tempted  and  yet  be  loath  to  strike  him. 
But  I  beg  pardon.  I  hope  I  have  not  hurt  you.  I 
was  merely  showing  you  what  would  probably  be 
my  course,  under  circumstances  like  those  you 
hinted  at." 

The  young  man  rose,  burning  with  shame  and 
anger,  and  said  :  "  Give  me  my  cane,  sir." 

"  Certainly.  It  is  too  pretty  a  toy  to  break. 
Look  you.  Nobody  has  been  witness  of  this  little 
lesson  ;  and  nobody  shall  hear  of  it  from  my  lips. 
Reflect  a  moment.  Have  you  not  been  very  fool 
ish  in  undertaking  this  business  ?  And  wouldn't 
I  have  been  still  more  foolish,  if,  on  this  my  wed 
ding-day,  I  had  accepted  an  invitation  which  was 
to  subject  me  to  the  chance  of  having  a  bullet 
lodged  in  my  plexus  or  my  heart  ?  I  will  not  speak 
of  the  divine  mandate,  '  Thou  shall  not  kill ;' 
though  that  is  enough  for  me  ;  but  will  look  with 
merely  worldly  eyes  on  the  subject.  You  are  a 
young  man  of  spirit,  sir,  and  ought  to  be  one  of 
sense.  Can  you  rationally  object  to  my  conduct  ?" 

"  Mr.  Maverick,  I  ask  your  pardon.  You  have 
given  me  a  wholesome  lesson.  Will  you  accept 
my  hand  in  friendship  ?" 

"Readily.  Come  into  my  parlor,  and  I  will 
make  you  acquainted  with  my  wife  and  sister." 

"  I  never  dreamed  that  my  mission  would  take 
such  a  turn  as  this.  I  accept  your  invitation  with 
pleasure.  Lead  on." 

"  A  pretty  termination  to  my  wedding-day  it 
would  have  been  to  have  accepted  a  challenge  ! 
17 


194 


WEALTH    AND    WORTH  ;    OK, 


What  are  swords  and  pistols  but  children's  toys, 
after  all  ?  Mark  me,  the  time  is  coming  when 
they  will  be  banished  to  the  nursery,  or  be  used 
only  in  conflicts  with  wild  beasts." 


WHICH    MAKES    THE    MAN  ?  195 


CHAPTER  XV. 

M  Now  hag  descended  a  serener  hour, 
And,  with  inconstant  fortune,  friends  return." 

SHELLEY. 

AGAIN  must  I  tax  the  imagination  of  my  readers 
to  traverse  space  and  time  without  regard  to  in 
tervening  distances  and  events.  Three  years  have 
elapsed.  We  will  return  to  Eagleswood.  Who 
are  now  its  tenants  ?  Perhaps  we  may  pick  up 
some  information  in  the  library. 

It  is  the  morning  of  the  fourth  of  July — a  clear, 
radiant,  and  fragrant  morning.  The  banks  of  the 
river  seem  piled  with  verdure.  Innumerable  roses 
are  in  bloom.  The  honeysuckle  that  twines  about 
the  paling  of  the  piazza  is  still  wet  with  dew,  and 
the  humming-bird,  that  feathere'd  libertine,  "  to  one 
thing  constant  never,"  is  busily  quaffing  the  sweet 
moisture  from  its  cup. 

In  the  library  are  Henry  Maverick  and  his  wife. 
Along  the  piazza,  before  the  windows,  pass  a  youth 
and  maiden,  arm  in  arm,  seemingly  absorbed  in 
conversation.  The  young  man  bears  a  striking 
resemblance  to  our  old  acquaintance,  Theodore 
Clare.  The  lady  is  no  other  than  Miss  Emme- 
line  Maverick.  A  lawn  slopes  away  just  beyond 
the  piazza,  and  there,  in  the  kindling  sunshine, 
stands  an  old,  gray-headed  negro,  dressed  in  a 
faded  military  uniform,  with  a  cocked  hat,  and  a 


196  WEALTH    AND    WORTH;    OR, 

burnished  sword,  that  seems  to  have  a  mischiev 
ous  propensity  to  swing  between  its  wearer's 
knees,  whenever  he  steps.  Can  it  be  that  old 
Mingo  is  yet  alive  ?  A  dog  follows  in  his  train. 
Is  it  Hotspur  ?  That  is  his  name.  But  it  is  not 
the  Hotspur  of  old  ;  though  a  not  unworthy  de 
scendant  of  that  respectable  quadruped,  whose 
fate  should  be  a  warning  to  all  dogs  of  roving  ha 
bits.  While  trotting  up  Chatham-street  one  day, 
he  was  knocked  on  the  head  by  a  dog-killer.  He 
died  full  of  years  and  honors,  just  as  his  faculties 
were  beginning  to  give  way  before  the  assaults 
of  time. 

Not  far  from  where  General  Mingo,  with  mar 
tial  suavity,  is  bowing  to  everybody  who  catches 
his  eye,  is  a  matronly  lady,  who  leads  a  bright- 
eyed,  auburn-haired  child.  These  are  the  elder 
Mrs.  Maverick  and  her  little  grand-daughter  Mary, 
who  has  been  named  after  her.  The  little  one  is 
trying  to  sing  a  song,  which  her  aunt  Emmeline 
has  taught  her  : 

"  We  will  flit  as  bright  as  spring, 
We  will  naught  but  pleasure  bring, 
We  will  teach  the  world  to  be 
Happy,  blithe,  and  gay  as  we !" 

Sauntering  through  the  wide  gravelled  walks  of 
the  garden  are  two  gentlemen,  whom  we  have  cer 
tainly  seen  before.  One  is  Mr.  Trane.  I  know 
him  by  his  height,  and  his  peculiar  stoop.  The 
other  has  been  bronzed  by  foreign  suns.  His  fine, 
compact  figure  and  his  firm  step  are  not  unfamiliar. 
It  is  Edwin  Clare,  who,  since  we  last  saw  him, 
has  been  to  China  again  and  returned.  He  has 
retrieved  his  former  reverses  through  the  extraor- 


WHICH  MAKES  THE  MAN?        197 

dinary  rise  of  teas  in  consequence  of  the  English 
invasion. 

The  Mavericks  returned  but  yesterday  to  their 
ancient  home.  The  estate  had  been  suddenly 
thrown  into  the  market  by  the  gentleman  who  had 
taken  it  off  of  Hardworth's  hands,  and  Harry  re 
purchased  it  upon  easy  terms. 

"  It  is  fortunate  for  me,"  said  Maverick,  who, 
with  his  wife,  was  surveying  the  library — "  it  is 
fortunate  for  me,  that  neither  Hardworth  nor  his 
successor  had  a  literary  family.  I  should  hardly 
think  these  books  had  been  touched  since  I  saw 
them  last.  Well  do  I  remember  the  morning  when 
I  took  leave  of  them,  as  I  supposed,  for  ever.  Do 
they  not  seem  to  smile  a  welcome  back  1  Friend 
Goldsmith,  good  morning  !  1  never  see  you  with 
out  recalling  the  story  of  the  feather-bed.*  Addi- 
son  !  how  are  you  ?  I  hope  Sir  Roger  de  Coverly 
is  well.  Boswell !  I  am  charmed  to  see  you.  You 
are  the  most  gossiping,  foolish,  delightful,  instruc 
tive,  entertaining,  ridiculous  fellow  in  the  world. 


*  Mr.  Maverick  probably  alludes  to  the  following  inci 
dent,  related  by  Irving  :  A  friend  calling  on  Goldsmith  one 
morning  found  him  in  bed,  immersed  to  the  chin  in  feathers. 
A  serio-comic  story  explained  the  circumstance.  The  pre 
ceding  evening  he  had  met  with  a  woman  with  five  child 
ren,  who  implored  his  charity.  Her  husband  was  in  the 
hospital,  she  a  stranger,  and  destitute,  without  food  or 
shelter  for  her  helpless  offspring.  This  was  too  much  for 
the  kind  heart  of  Goldsmith.  He  was  almost  as  poor  as 
herself,  it  is  true,  and  had  no  money  in  his  pocket.  But  he 
brought  her  to  the  college  gate,  gave  her  the  blankets  from 
his  bed  to  cover  her  little  brood,  and  part  of  his  clothes  for 
her  to  sell  and  purchase  food ;  and,  finding  himself  cold  dur 
ing  the  night,  had  cut  open  his  bed  and  buried  himself  among 
the  leathers. 


198  WEALTH    AND    WORTH  ;    OR, 

How  is  Dr.  Johnson  ?  How  is  Mrs.  Thrale  ?  Is 
poor  blind  Mrs.  Williams  still  ailing  ?  Is  nobody 
well  but  Mr.  Levett  ?  Milton !  Shakspeare  !  Dry- 
den  !  De  Foe  !  Pope  !  Franklin  !  Cowper  !  By 
ron  !  Walter  Scott!  I  salute  you  with  reverence.  I 
am  delighted  to  see  you  looking  in  such  good  case. 
Hume,  Smollett,  Robertson  !  Your  most  obedient ! 
Burke  !  I  am  glad  to  renew  our  acquaintance.  Jef 
ferson  !  my  respects.  Gentlemen  and  ladies  all ! 
I  return  to  your  society  with  emotions  of  the  pro- 
foundest — that  is  to  say — with — unaccustomed 
as  I  am  to — Ellen,  help  me  out  in  my  speech. 
The  presence  of  all  these  great  people  is  embar 
rassing." 

"  Nay,  their  backs  are  turned  upon  you,  and 
they  are  bound  in  silence  and  Russian  leather." 

"True!  But  I  can  never  feel  lonely  in  their 
company.  Do  you  remember  Southey's  lines  to 
his  books  1" 

"  No." 

"  I  think  I  can  recall  the  first  two  stanzas  : — 

'My  days  among  the  dead  are  past : 

Around  me  I  behold, 
Where'er  these  casual  eyes  are  cast, 

The  mighty  minds  of  old — 
My  never-failing  friends  are  they, 
With  whom  I  converse  day  by  day. 

'  With  them  I  take  delight  in  weal, 

And  seek  relief  in  wo, 
And  when  I  understand  and  feel 

How  much  to  them  I  owe, 
My  cheeks  have  often  been  bedew'd 
With  tears  of  thoughtful  gratitude.' 

Poor  Southey !    His  fine  intellect  is  now  cloud- 


WHICH    MAKES    THE    MAN?  199 

ed  with  insanity.  His  sun  is  setting  in  darkness 
and  in  storms." 

"To  rise  again,  let  us  hope,  in  brightness." 

"  Yes,  but  for  that  hope — the  Christian's  hope — 
what  a  dreary,  aimless,  objectless  thing  would  this 
life  be  !  Methinks  I  should  find  no  joy  even  in 
thy  love,  my  wife,  if  I  thought  it  limited  to  the  little 
span  of  our  natural  existence.  '  If  in  this  life  only 
we  have  hope  in  Christ,  we  are  of  all  men  most 
miserable.'  " 

"  I  met  with  a  little  poem  by  Montgomery  the 
other  day,  which  haunts  me  like  a  sweet  tune, 
both  for  the  melody  of  the  versification  and  the 
extreme  beauty  of  the  metaphor." 

"  Can  you  repeat  it  ?" 

"  I  will  try  : — 

'Lift  up  thine  eyes,  afflicted  soul ! 

From  earth  lift  up  thine  eyes; 
Though  dark  the  evening  shadows  roll, 

And  daylight  beauty  dies ; 
One  sun  is  set — a  thousand  more 

Their  rounds  of  glory  run, 
Where  science  leads  thee  to  explore, 

In  every  star  a  sun. 

'  Thus,  when  some  long-loved  comfort  ends, 

And  nature  would  despair, 
Faith  to  the  heaven  of  heavens  ascends, 

And  meets  ten  thousand  there ; 
First  faint  and  small,  then  clear  and  bright, 

They  gladden  all  the  gloom, 
And  stars  that  seemed  but  points  of  light, 

The  rank  of  suns  assume.' " 

"  Beautiful,  every  way  !  There  is  not  a  flaw  in 
it — in  thought,  diction,  imagery,  or  rhythm." 


200  WEALTH    AND    WORTH  ;    OR, 

"  But  how  happens  it,  that  on  the  '  glorious 
Fourth,'  our  conversation  is  taking  so  grave  a 
turn  ?" 

"  I  dare  say  it  could  be  explained  upon  the 
principle  of  the  association  of  ideas.  Do  you  not 
remember  a  poem  of  Wordsworth's,  where  he 
speaks  of  that  '  sweet  mood,  when  pleasant 
thoughts  bring  sad  thoughts  to  the  mind  ?'  We 
seem  inadvertently  to  have  hit  upon  the  same  vein 
with  the  poet." 

"  Strange  inconsistency  of  qur  nature,  that  ex 
cess  of  happiness  should  make  us  sad !  For  if  I 
am  ever  sad  now-a-days,  it  is  from  that  cause." 

"  Heaven  grant  that  you  may  never  experience 
any  cause  more  potent!" 

"  While  Heaven  preserves  you  as  you  are,  I 
shall  not." 

"  Hark  !  Do  you  not  hear  the  guns  booming 
across  the  river  ?  It  is  our  country's  birth-day, 
and  we  must  do  it  honor." 

"  I  am  too  stanch  a  Yankee  not  to  agree  with 
you  there.  Ask  Theodore  if  I  did  not  once  touch 
off  a  twenty-four  pounder  on  the  fourth." 

"  Oh,  I  do  not  doubt  you  would  be  a  second 
Joan  d'Arc,  if  you  had  the  opportunity." 

"  I  question  whether  the  Maid  of  Orleans  ever 
did  so  much  as  fire  a  Chinese  cracker." 

"  What  a  heroine  you  would  make  yourself 
out !" 

"  Is  not  a  hero's  wife  a  heroine  ?" 

"  And  now,  Ellen,  let  us  rejoin  our  friends  out  of 
doors.  What  a  delightful  day  !  Do  you  see  that 
chamber  on  the  eastern  corner,  where  the  plane- 
tree  rustles  against  the  window  ?  That  used  to  be 
mine.  Don't  you  remember,  Emrneline,  during 


WHICH   MAKES   THE   MAN?  201 

my  long  illness,  how  you  used  to  come  and  sit  for 
hours  by  my  bed-side,  and  sing  and  read  to  me  ?" 

"  I  shall  never  forget  it." 

"  Poor  Charley  Brudenel !  I  could  weep  at 
this  late  day  when  I  think  of  him.  What  a  bright, 
gay,  high-hearted  creature  he  was !  Theodore, 
there  is  a  beautiful  little  mound,  just  behind  the 
grove  of  chestnuts,  which  you  see  on  the  right. 
You  must  draw  me  a  design  for  a  monument  to  be 
erected  there  to  the  memory  of  my  old  playmate." 

"  It  shall  be  done." 

"  But  this  is  not  a  day  for  sad  thoughts.  We 
expect  a  party  of  friends  by  the  twelve  o'clock 
boat  from  the  city." 

"  Whom  do  you  expect  ?"  asked  Emmeline. 

"  In  the  first  place,  there  is  Ralph  Armstrong 
with  his  lady.  You  have  never  seen  him,  Theo 
dore  ?" 

"  No." 

"  He  was  a  school-mate  of  mine,  and  is  as  hon 
est  a  fellow  as  ever  lived.  I  had  the  pleasure  of 
serving  him  four  or  five  years  since,  by  obtaining 
for  him  the  place  of  chief  engineer  of  one  of  our 
great  rail-roads.  He  gives  complete  satisfaction, 
and,  out  of  his  liberal  salary,  has  managed  to  ad 
vance  the  fortunes  of  a  large  family  of  brothers 
and  sisters.  Last  week,  Ralph  was  married  to  an 
old  friend  of  ours,  Mary  Brudenel,  and  is  of  course 
happy  as — I  was  about  to  say,  as  a  lord.  But 
that  is  a  very  absurd  comparison  ;  for  there  is 
Lord  William  Ormsby,  who  recently  succeeded  to 
his  father's  immense  estates,  but  who  is  as  miser 
able  a  man  as  profligacy  ever  made." 

"  What  other  visitors  do  you  hope  to  see, 
brother  ?" 


202  WEALTH    AND    WORTH  ;    OR, 

"  Sim  Lewis  and  his  son  John." 

"  Oh,  I  remember  them  well,  and  the  glorious 
winter  evening  we  passed  together,"  cried  Theo 
dore  Clare. 

"  John  Lewis,"  continued  Maverick,  "  who  has 
a  good  deal  of  natural  shrewdness,  has  risen  in 
the  world  so  far,  as  to  have  been  run  for  alderman 
in  his  ward  ;  a  circumstance  which  is  a  constant 
subject  of  merriment  to  his  worthy  old  father,  who 
cannot  seem  to  realize  that  John  Lewis  is  anything 
still  but  an  overgrown  boy.  They  will  make  some 
sport  for  us.  Then  there  is  old  Mr.  Brown,  who, 
I  suspect,  Theodore,  is  a  very  formidable  rival  to 
you  in  Emmeline's  favor." 

"  Out  upon  you,  Harry !"  cried  the  young  lady 
referred  to. 

"  But  I  have  not  mentioned  the  name  of  another 
expected  visiter,  who  will  be  not  among  the  least 
welcome.  Mr.  Wainbridge  arrived  yesterday  in 
the  Great  Western  from  Bristol,  with  his  wife  and 
daughter.  I  hare  not  seen  him  yet ;  but  sent  a 
messenger  to  the  city  last  evening  express,  who 
returned  with  the  happy  intelligence,  that  Wain- 
bridge  would  be  here  with  his  family  at  the  ap 
pointed  time,  to  celebrate  with  us  our  great  na 
tional  holyday." 

"  What  a  charming  party  it  will  be  !"  cried  Em- 
meline. 

"  And  now,"  said  Harry,  "  suppose  we  marshal 
our  forces,  and  take  a  walk  toward  the  landing- 
place  to  meet  our  friends  ;  for  it  is  almost  twelve, 
and  I  see  the  smoke  of  the  steamboat,  and  hear 
the  band  playing  '  Hail  Columbia.'  Come  here, 
Miss  Mary  Maverick,  and,  grandmother,  come 
too !  Where  are  Edwin  and  Mr.  Trane  ?  Oh, 


WHICH  MAKES  THE  MAN  ?        203 

here  they  come,  followed  by  Hotspur  and  General 
Mingo.  Now,  Ellen,  take  the  arm  of  Mr.  Trane. 
Emmeline,  if  you  have  no  particular  objection, 
allow  Theodore  to  conduct  you.  Mrs.  Maverick, 
senior  !  do  you  not  see  that  Mr.  Edwin  Clare 
offers  you  his  arm  ?  Miss  Mary  Maverick,  give 
me  your  hand.  Come  here,  Hotspur,  and  bring  up 
the  rear.  Now,  General  Mingo,  take  your  place 
in  advance,  and  do  not  let  your  sword  trip  you  up 
again.  Are  we  all  ready  ?  Forward  !  March  !" 


In  one  of  Maverick's  letters  addressed  to  Wain- 
bridge,  two  or  three  months  before  the  return  to 
Eagleswood,  I  find  the  following  passage  : — "  I 
thank  you  for  your  liberal  offer  in  regard  to  loans  ; 
but  fortune  has  so  far  kept  pace  with  my  efforts, 
that  I  see  no  necessity  for  taxing  the  generosity 
of  my  friends.  I  have  prospered  in  my  profession, 
and  shall  soon  have  the  ability  to  re-purchase  the 
old  estate  on  the  Hudson.  Your  reflections  upon 
what  once  seemed  calamitous  occurrences  in  both 
our  lives  are  just.  What  a  worthless  fellow,  in 
all  probability,  I  should  have  been,  if  the  wealth 
to  which  I  was  born  had  not  been  seasonably  di 
verted  from  my  possession,  and  I  thrown  upon  the 
world  to  act  out  whatever  there  was  in  me  of  value ! 
If  necessity  had  not  stimulated  me  to  action,  I 
might  have  been  at  this  day  '  a  boudoir's  babbling 
fool,'  a  sensualist  and  an  idler — a  cipher  in  crea 
tion  !  How  little  to  be  envied,  in  the  eye  of  ex 
perience  and  philosophy,  are  those  who  are  born 
to  wealth  !  If  poverty  be  sometimes  the  mother 
of  wretchedness,  she  may  also  point  to  millions 


204 


WEALTH    AND    WORTH. 


of  triumphs  in  literature,  and  arts,  and  arms  as  her 
legitimate  offspring  ;  while  wealth,  with  its  Circean 
blandishments,  holds  back  genius  and  young  ambi 
tion  from  the  race,  until  their  strength  is  wasted  or 
their  desire  vanished. 

'  What  merit  to  be  dropped  on  fortune's  hill  ? 
The  honor  is  to  mount  it.'  " 


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and  emendations,  designed  to  adapt  it  to  the  use  of  the  Cadets 
of  the  U.  S.  Military  Academy.  By  Edward  H.  Coartenay. 
8vo. 

The  Life  of  John  Jay  :  with  Selections  from  his 
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William  Jay.  In  2  vols.  8vo.  With  a  Portrait. 

Annals  of  Tryon  County ;  or,  the  Border  Warfare 
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A  Narrative  of  Events  connected  with  the  Rise 

and  Progress  of  the  Protestant  Episcopal  Church  in  Virginia. 
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present  Time.  By  Francis  L.  Hawkes.  8vo. 

A   Memoir   of  the  Life   of  William   Livingston, 

Memberof  Congress  in  1774,  1775,  and  1776 ;  Delegate  to  the 
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This  book  WDUE  on  the  last 
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